•^  ^^ 


PER  TATEM 
VERI     VIS 


PaskngJtoiillrair^r&Ttg 


A'tn 


V^-' 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


00022093397 


-~— Property  ot~ 


ST.  LOUIS  SCHOOL  OF  FIME  ARTi. 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2011  witii  funding  from 

University  of  Nortii  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://www.archive.org/details/fairytalesstorieOande 


Fairy  Tales  and  Stories  ^  ^ 
^  By  Hans  Christian  Andersen 

Translated  by  Dr.  H.  W.  Dulcken  ^  ^   ^   ^ 


Chicago  and  New  York  ♦  «  ♦ 
Rand,  McNally  &  Company 


CONTENTS. 


-  The  Silver  Shilling 5 

The  Old  Church  Bell d 

The  Snail  and  the  Rose  Tree 14 

-    Little  Ida's  Flowers 16 

The  Tinder-Box 23 

Great  Claus  and  Little  Glaus. , 29 

Thumbelina  40 

The  Goloshes  of  Fortune 50 

The  Hardy  Tin  Soldier 76 

The  Story  of  a  Mother 80 

The  Daisy 85 

A  Great  Grief 89 

-  The  Shirt  Collar 91 

Ole-Luk-Oie 93 

-  The  Beetle 103 

What  the  Old  Man  Does  is  Always  Right Ill 

-  Good  Humor 116 

-  Children's  Prattle 120 

The  Flying  Trunk 122 

■p     The  Last  Pearl 127 

The  Storks 130 

-^      Grandmother   134 

— -  The  Ugly  Duckling 136 

h     The  Loveliest  Rose  in  the  World 145 

Holger  Danske 147 

~     The  Puppet  Showman , , .  152 

A  Picture  from  the  Fortress  Wall 156 

~      In  the  Duck  Yard 157 

The  Red  Shoes 162 

Soup  on  a  Sausage-Peg 168 

The  Shepherdess  and  the  Chimney-Sweeper 181 

--     The  Old  Street  Lamp 186 

'   The  Lovers. 193 

Little  Tuk 195 

(h       ^ 
A/       ^ 


<l^^^ 


iv  CONTENTS. 

The  Flax 199 

The  Girl  who  Trod  on  the  Loaf , 203 

The  Money-Pig 211 

The  Darning-Needle 214 

The  Fir  Tree 217 

Something  225 

A  Leaf  from  the  Sky 231 

The  Jewish  Girl .234 

The  Elder  Tree  Mother 239 

The  Farmyard  Cock  and  the  Weather  Cock 246 

The  Old  Gravestone 248 

The  Old  Bachelor's  Nightcap 251 

A  Rose  from  the  Grave  of  Homer 284 

The  Wind  Tells  about  Waldemar  Daa  and  His  Daughters 265 

Five  Out  of  One  Shell 276 

The  Metal  Pig 279 

The  Snow  Queen — In  Seven  Stories 290 

The  Nightingale 320 

The  Neighboring  Families 329 

The  Little  Match  Girl 338 

The  Elf  Hill 34p 

The  Buckwheat 347 

The  Old  House 349 

The  Happy  Family 856 

The  Rose-Elf = 359 

The  Shadow 364 

The  Angel 376 

Twelve  by  the  Mail 378 

What  the  Moon  Saw 382 


ANDERSEN'S  FAIRY  TALES. 


THE  SILVER  SHILLING. 

There  was  once  a  Shilling-.  He  came  out  quite  bright 
from  the  Mint,  and  sprang  up,  and  rang  out,  "Hurrah !  now 
I'm  off  into  the  wide  world."  And  into  the  wide  world  he 
certainly  went. 

The  child  held  him  with  soft,  warm  hands;  the  miser 
clutched  him  in  a  cold,  avaricious  palm ;  the  old  man  turned 
him  goodness  knows  how  many  times  before  parting  with 
him;  while  careless  youth  rolled  him  lightly  away.  The 
Shilling  was  of  silver,  and  had  very  little  copper  about  him; 
he  had  been  now  a  whole  year  in  the  world — ^that  is  to  say, 
in  the  country  in  which  he  had  been  struck.  But  one  day  he 
started  on  his  foreign  travels ;  he  was  the  last  native  coin  in 
the  purse  borne  by  his  traveling  master.  The  gentleman 
himself  was  not  aware  that  he  still  had  this  coin  until  he 
came  across  it  by  chance. 

"Why,  here's  a  shilling  from  home  left  to  me,"  he  said. 
"Well,  he  can  make  the  journey  with  me." 

And  the  Shilling  rattled  and  jumped  for  joy  as  it  was 
thrust  back  into  the  purse.  So  here  it  lay  among  strange 
companions,  who  came  and  went,  each  making  room  for  a 
successor;  but  the  Shilling  from  home  always  remained  in 
the  bag,  which  was  a  distinction  for  it. 

Several  weeks  had  gone  by,  and  the  Shilling  had  traveled 
far  out  into  the  world  without  exactly  knowing  where  he 
was,  though  he  learned  from  the  other  coins  that  they  were 
French  or  Italian.  One  said  they  were  in  such  and  such  a 
town,  another  that  they  had  reached  such  and  such  a  spot; 
but  the  Shilling  could  form  no  idea  of  all  this.  He  who  has 
his  head  in  a  bag  sees  nothing;  and  this  was  the  case  with 


6  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

the  Shilling.  But  one  day,  as  he  lay  there,  he  noticed  that 
the  purse  was  not  shut,  and  so  he  crept  forward  to  the  open- 
ing, to  take  a  look  around.  He  ought  not  to  have  done  so; 
but  he  was  inquisitive,  and  people  often  have  to  pay  for 
that.  He  slipped  out  into  the  fob;  and  when  the  purse  was 
taken  out  at  night  the  Shilling  remained  behind,  and  was 
sent  out  into  the  passage  with  the  clothes.  There  he  fell 
upon  the  floor;  no  one  heard  it,  no  one  saw  it. 

Next  morning  the  clothes  were  carried  back  into  the 
room;  the  gentleman  put  them  on,  and  continued  his  jour- 
ney, while  the  Shilling  remained  behind.  The  coin  was 
found,  and  was  required  to  go  into  service  again,  so  he  was 
sent  out  with  three  other  coins. 

"It  is  a  pleasant  thing  to  look  about  one  in  the  world," 
thought  the  Shilling,  "and  to  get  to  know  strange  people 
and  foreign  customs." 

And  now  began  the  history  of  the  Shilling,  as  told  by 
himself. 

"  'Away  with  him,  he's  bad — no  use !'  These  words  went 
through  and  through  me,"  said  the  Shilling.  "I  knew  I 
sounded  well  and  had  been  properly  coined.  The  people 
were  certainly  mistaken.  They  could  not  mean  me!  but, 
yes,  they  did  mean  me.  I  was  the  one  of  whom  they  said, 
'He's  bad — he's  no  good.'  T  must  get  rid  of  that  fellow  in 
the  dark,'  said  the  man  who  had  received  me;  and  I  was 
passed  at  night  and  abused  in  the  daytime.  'Bad — no 
good,'  was  the  cry;  'we  must  make  haste  and  get  rid  of 
him.' 

"And  I  trembled  in  the  fingers  of  the  holder  each  time  I 
was  to  be  passed  on  as  a  coin  of  the  country. 

"What  a  miserable  Shilling  I  am!  Of  what  use  is  my 
silver  to  me,  my  value,  my  coinage,  if  all  these  things  are 
looked  on  as  worthless?  In  the  eyes  of  the  world  one  has 
only  the  value  the  world  chooses  to  put  upon  one.  It  must 
be  terrible  indeed  to  have  a  bad  conscience,  and  to  creep 
along  on  evil  ways,  if  I,  who  am  quite  innocent,  can  feel  so 
badly  because  I  am  only  thought  guilty. 

"Each  time  I  was  brought  out  I  shuddered  at  the  thought 
of  the  eyes  that  would  look  at  me,  for  I  knew  that  I  should 
be  rejected  and  flung  back  upon  the  table,  like  an  impostor 
and  a  cheat.  Once  I  came  into  the  hands  of  a  poor  old 
woman,  to  whom  I  was  paid  for  a  hard  day's  work,  and  she 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  7 

could  not  get  rid  of  me  at  all.  No  one  would  accept  me, 
and  I  was  a  perfect  worry  to  the  old  dame. 

"  'I  shall  certainly  be  forced  to  deceive  someone  with  this 
shilling,'  she  said;  'for,  with  the  best  will  in  the  world,  I 
can't  hoard  up  a  false  shilling.  The  rich  baker  shall  have 
him;  he  will  be  able  to  bear  the  loss — but  it's  wrong  in  me  to 
do  it,  after  all.' 

"  'And  I  must  lie  heavy  on  that  woman's  conscience,  too,' 
sighed  I.     'Am  I  really  so  much  changed  in  my  old  age?' 

"And  the  woman  went  her  way  to  the  rich  baker;  but  he 
knew  too  well  what  kind  of  shillings  would  pass  to  take  me, 
and  he  threw  me  back  at  the  woman,  who  got  no  bread  for 
me.  And  I  felt  miserably  low  to  think  that  I  should  be  the 
cause  of  distress  to  others — I  who  had  been  in  my  young 
days  so  proudly  conscious  of  my  value  and  of  the  correct- 
ness of  my  mintage.  I  became  as  miserable  as  a  poor  shil- 
ling can  be  whom  no  one  will  accept;  but  the  woman  took 
me  home  again,  and  looked  at  me  with  a  friendly,  hearty 
face,  and  said: 

"  'No,  I  will  not  deceive  anyone  with  thee.  I  will  bore  a 
hole  through  thee,  that  everyone  may  see  thou  art  a  false 
thing.  And  yet — it  just  occurs  to  me — perhaps  this  is  a 
lucky  shilling;  and  the  thought  comes  so  strongly  upon  me 
that  I  am  sure  it  must  be  true!  I  will  make  a  hole  through 
the  shilling,  and  pass  a  string  through  the  hole,  and  hang 
the  coin  round  the  neck  of  my  neighbor's  little  boy  for  a 
lucky  shilling.' 

"So  she  bored  a  hole  through  me.  It  is  certainly  not 
agreeable  to  have  a  hole  bored  through  one;  but  many 
things  can  be  borne  when  the  intention  is  good.  A  thread 
was  passed  through  the  hole,  and  I  became  a  kind  of  medal, 
and  was  hung  round  the  neck  of  the  little  child;  and  the 
child  smiled  at  me,  and  kissed  me,  and  I  slept  all  night  on 
its  warm,  innocent  neck. 

"When  the  morning  came,  the  child's  mother  took  me  up 
in  her  fingers  and  looked  at  me,  and  she  had  her  own 
thoughts  about  me ;  I  could  feel  that  very  well.  She  brought 
out  a  pair  of  scissors,  and  cut  the  string  through. 

"'A  lucky  shilling!'  she  said.  'Well,  we  shall  soon  see 
that.' 

"And  she  laid  me  in  vinegar,  so  that  I  turned  quite  green. 
Then  she  plugged  up  the  hole,  and  carried  me  in  the  even- 


8  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

ing  twilight,  to  the  lottery  collector,  to  buy  a  lottery  ticket 
that  should  bring  her  luck. 

"How  miserably  wretched  I  felt!  There  was  a  stinging 
feeling  in  me,  as  if  I  should  crumble  to  bits.  I  knew  that  I 
should  be  called  false  and  thrown  down — and  before  a 
crowd  of  shillings  and  other  coins,  too,  who  lay  there  with 
an  image  and  superscription  of  which  they  might  be  proud. 
But  I  escaped  that  disgrace,  for  there  were  many  people  in 
the  collector's  room;  he  had  a  great  deal  to  do,  and  I  went 
rattling  down  into  the  box  among  the  other  coins.  Whether 
my  ticket  won  anything  or  not  I  don't  know;  but  this  I  do 
know,  that  the  very  next  morning  I  was  recognized  as  a 
bad  shilling,  and  was  sent  out  to  deceive  and  deceive  again. 
That  is  a  very  trying  thing  to  bear  when  one  knows  one  has 
a  good  character,  and  of  that  I  am  conscious. 

"For  a  year  and  a  day  I  thus  wandered  from  house  to 
house  and  from  hand  to  hand,  always  abused,  always  un- 
welcome; no  one  trusted  me;  and  I  lost  confidence  in  the 
world  and  in  myself.  It  was  a  heavy  time.  At  last,  one 
day  a  traveler,  a  strange  gentlem^an,  arrived,  and  I  was 
passed  to  him,  and  he  was  polite  enough  to  accept  me  for 
current  coin;  but  he  wanted  to  pass  me  on,  and  again  I 
heard  the  horrible  cry,  'No  use — false!' 

"  T  received  it  as  a  good  coin,'  said  the  man,  and  he 
looked  closely  at  me;  suddenly  he  smiled  all  over  his  face; 
and  I  had  never  seen  that  expression  before  on  any  face 
that  looked  at  me.  'Why,  whatever  is  that?'  he  said.  'That's 
one  of  our  own  country  coins,  a  good,  honest  shilling  from 
my  home,  and  they've  bored  a  hole  through  him,  and  they 
called  him  false.  Now,  this  is  a  curious  circumstance.  I 
must  keep  him  and  take  him  home  with  me.' 

"A  glow  of  joy  thrilled  through  me  when  I  heard  myself 
called  a  good,  honest  shilling;  and  now  I  was  to  be  taken 
home,  where  each  and  everyone  would  know  me,  and  be 
sure  that  I  was  real  silver  and  properly  coined.  I  could 
have  thrown  out  sparks  for  very  gladness ;  but,  after  all,  it's 
not  in  my  nature  to  throw  out  sparks,  for  that's  the  property 
of  steel,  not  of  silver. 

"1  was  wrapped  up  in  clean  white  paper,  so  that  I  should 
not  be  confounded  with  the  other  coins  and  spent;  and  on 
festive  occasions,  when  fellow-countrymen  met  together,  I 
was  shown  about,  and  they  spoke  very  well  of  me;  they  said 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  9 

I  was  interesting — and  it  is  wonderful  how  interesting  one 
can  be  without  saying  a  single  word. 

"And  at  last  I  got  home  again.  All  my  troubles  were 
ended,  joy  came  back  to  me,  for  I  was  of  good  silver,  and 
had  the  right  stamp,  and  I  had  no  more  disagreeables  to  en- 
dure, though  a  hole  had  been  bored  through  me,  as  through 
a  false  coin;  but  that  does  not  matter  if  one  is  not  really 
false.  One  must  wait  for  the  end,  and  one  will  be  righted  at 
last — that's  my  belief,"  said  the  Shilling. 


THE  OLD  CHURCH  BELL. 

In  the  German  land  of  Wurtemberg,  where  the  acacias 
bloom  by  the  high  road,  and  the  apple  trees  and  pear  trees 
bend  in  autumn  under  their  burden  of  ripe  fruit,  lies  the 
little  town  of  Marbach.  Although  this  place  can  only  be 
ranked  among  the  smaller  towns,  it  is  charmingly  situated 
on  the  Neckar  stream,  that  flows  on  and  on,  hurrying  past 
villages  and  old  castles  and  green  vineyards,  to  pour  its 
waters  into  the  proud  Rhine. 

It  was  late  in  autumn.  The  leaves  still  clung  to  the 
grapevine,  but  they  were  already  tinged  with  red.  Rainy 
gusts  swept  over  the  country,  and  the  cold  autumn  winds 
increased  in  violence  and  roughness.  It  was  no  pleasant 
time  for  poor  folk. 

The  days  became  shorter  and  gloomier;  and  if  it  was  dark 
out  in  the  open  air,  in  the  little  old-fashioned  houses  it  was 
darker  still.  One  of  these  houses  was  built  with  its  gable  end 
toward  the  street,  and  stood  there,  with  its  small,  narrow 
windows,  humble  and  poor  enough  in  appearance ;  the  fam- 
ily was  poor,  too,  that  inhabited  the  little  house,  but  good 
and  industrious,  and  rich  in  a  treasure  of  piety  concealed  in 
the  depth  of  the  heart.  And  they  expected  that  God  would 
soon  give  them  another  child;  the  hour  had  come,  and  the 
mother  lay  in  pain  and  sorrow.  Then  from  the  church 
tower  opposite  the  deep,  rich  sound  of  the  bell  came  to  her. 
It  was  a  solemn  hour,  and  the  song  of  the  bell  filled  the 
heart  of  the  praying  woman  with  trustfulness  and  faith ;  the 
thoughts  of  her  inmost  heart  soared  upward  toward  the  Al- 
mighty, and  in  the  same  hour  she  gave  birth  to  a  son.  Then 


10  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

she  was  filled  with  a  great  joy,  and  the  bell  of  the  tower  op- 
posite seemed  to  be  ringing  to  spread  the  news  of  her  hap- 
piness over  town  and  country.  The  clear  child-eyes  looked 
at  her,  and  the  infant's  hair  gleamed  like  gold.  Thus  was 
the  little  one  ushered  into  the  world  with  the  ringing  of  the 
church  bell  on  the  dark  November  day.  The  mother  and 
father  kissed  it,  and  wrote  in  their  Bible:  "On  the  loth  of 
November,  1759,  'God  gave  us  a  son;"  and  soon  afterward 
the  fact  was  added  that  the  child  had  been  baptized  under 
the  name  of  "Johann  Christoph  Friedrich." 

And  what  became  of  the  little  fellow,  the  poor  boy  in  the 
pretty  town  of  Marbach?  Ah,  at  that  time  no  one  knew 
what  would  become  of  him,  not  even  the  old  church  bell 
that  had  sung  at  his  birth,  hanging  so  high  in  the  tower, 
over  him  who  was  one  day  himself  to  sing  the  beautiful 
"Lay  of  the  Bell." 

Well,  the  boy  grew  older,  and  the  world  grew  older  with 
him.  His  parents  certainly  removed  to  another  town,  but 
they  had  left  dear  friends  in  little  Marbach;  and  thus  it  was 
that  mother  and  son  one  day  arose  and  drove  over  to  Mar- 
bach on  a  visit.  The  lad  was  only  six  years  old,  but  he  al- 
ready knew  many  things  out  of  the  Bible,  and  many  a  pious 
psalm;  and  many  an  evening  he  had  sat  on  his  little  stool 
listening  while  his  father  read  aloud  from  "Gellert's  Fables," 
or  from  the  lofty  "Messiah"  of  Klopstock;  and  he  and  his 
sister,  who  was  his  senior  by  two  years,  had  wept  hot  tears 
of  pity  for  Him  who  died  on  the  cross  that  we  might  live 
eternally. 

At  the  time  of  this  first  visit  to  Marbach  the  little  town 
had  not  greatly  changed;  and  indeed  they  had  not  long  left 
it.  The  houses  stood  as  on  the  day  of  the  family's  de- 
parture, with  their  pointed  gables,  projecting  walls,  the 
higher  stories  leaning  over  the  lower,  and  their  tiny  win- 
dows; but  there  were  new  graves  in  the  churchyard;  and 
there,  in  the  grass,  hard  by  the  wall,  lay  the  old  bell.  It 
had  fallen  from  its  position,  and  had  sustained  such  damage 
that  it  could  sound  no  more,  and  accordingly  a  new  bell  had 
been  put  in  its  place. 

Mother  and  son  went  into  the  churchyard.  They  stopped 
where  the  old  bell  lay,  and  the  mother  told  the  boy  how  for 
centuries  this  had  been  a  very  usetul  bell,  and  had  rung  at 
christenings,  at  weddings,  and  at  burials;  how  it  had  sooken 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  11 

at  one  time  to  tell  of  feasts  and  rejoicings,  at  another  to 
spread  the  alarm  of  fire;  and  how  it  had,  in  fact,  sung  the 
whole  life  of  man.  And  the  boy  never  forgot  what  his 
mother  told  him  that  day.  It  resounded  and  echoed  at  in- 
tervals in  his  heart,  until,  when  he  was  grown  a  man,  he 
was  compelled  to  sing  it.  The  mother  told  him  also  how 
the  bell  had  sung  of  faith  and  comfort  to  her  in  the  time  of 
her  peril,  that  it  had  sung  at  the  time  when  he,  her  little  son, 
was  born.  And  the  boy  gazed,  almost  with  a  feeling  of  de- 
votion, at  the  great  old  bell;  and  he  bent  over  it  and  kissed 
it,  as  it  lay  all  rusty  and  broken  among  the  long  grass  and 
nettles. 

The  old  bell  was  held  in  kindly  remembrance  by  the  boy, 
who  grew  up  in  poverty,  tall  and  thin,  with  reddish  hair  and 
freckled  face — yes,  that's  how  he  looked;  but  he  had  a  pair 
of  eyes,  clear  and  deep  as  the  deepest  water.  And  what  for- 
tune had  he?  Why,  good  fortune,  enviable  fortune.  We 
find  him  graciously  received  into  the  military  school,  and 
even  in  the  department  where  sons  of  people  in  society  were 
taught,  and  was  that  not  honor  and  fortune  enough?  And 
they  educated  him  to  the  v/ords  of  command,  "Halt! 
march!  front!"  and  on  such  a  system  much  might  be  ex- 
pected. 

Meanwhile  the  old  church  bell  had  been  almost  com- 
pletely forgotten.  But  it  was  to  be  presumed  that  the  bell 
would  find  its  way  into  the  furnace,  and  what  would  become 
of  it  then?  It  was  impossible  to  say,  and  equally  impossible 
to  tell  what  sounds  would  come  forth  from  the  bell  that  kept 
echoing  through  the  young  heart  of  the  boy  from  Marbach ; 
but  that  bell  was  of  bronze,  and  kept  sounding  so  loud  that 
it  must  at  last  be  heard  out  in  the  wide  world ;  and  the  more 
cramped  the  space  within  the  school  walls,  and  the  more 
deafening  the  dreary  shout  of  "March!  halt!  front!"  the 
louder  did  the  sound  ring  through  the  youth's  breast;  and 
he  sang  what  he  felt  in  the  circle  of  his  companions,  and  the 
sound  was  heard  beyond  the  boundaries  of  the  principality. 
But  it  was  not  for  this  that  they  had  given  him  a  presenta- 
tion to  the  military  school,  and  board,  and  clothing.  Had 
he  not  been  already  numbered  and  destined  to  be  a  certain 
wheel  in  the  great  watchwork  to  which  we  all  belong  as 
pieces  of  practical  machinery?  How  imperfectly  do  we  un- 
derstand ourselves!  and  how,  then,  shall  others,  even  the 


12  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

best  men,  understand  us?  But  it  is  the  pressure  that  forms 
the  precious  stone.  There  was  pressure  enough  here;  but 
would  the  world  be  able,  some  day,  to  recognize  the  jewel? 

In  the  capital  of  the  prince  of  the  country,  a  great  festival 
was  being  celebrated.  Thousands  of  candles  and  lamps 
gleamed  brightly,  and  rockets  flew  toward  the  heavens  in 
streams  of  fire.  "  The  splendor  of  that  day  yet  lives  in  the 
remembrance  of  men,  but  it  lives  through  him,  the  young 
scholar  of  the  military  school,  who  was  trying  in  sorrow 
and  tears  to  escape  unperceived  from  the  land ;  he  was  com- 
pelled to  leave  all— mother,  native  country,  those  he  loved— 
unless  he  could  resign  himself  to  sink  into  the  stream  of 
oblivion  among  his  fellows. 

The  old  bell  was  better  ofi  than  he,  for  the  bell  would  re- 
main peaceably  by  the  churchyard  wall  in  Marbach,  safe, 
and  almost  forgotten.  The  wind  whistled  over  it,  and  might 
have  told  a  fine  tale  of  him  at  whose  birth  the  bell  had 
sounded,  and  over  whom  the  wind  had  but  now  blown  cold 
in  the  forest  of  a  neighboring  land,  where  he  had  sunk  down, 
exhausted  by  fatigue,  wdth  his  wdiole  wealth,  his  only  hope 
for  the  future,  the  written  pages  of  his  tragedy  "Fiesco:" 
the  wind  might  have  told  of  the  youth's  only  patrons,  men 
who  were  artists,  and  who  yet  slunk  away  to  amuse  them- 
selves at  skittles  while  his  play  was  being  read;  the  wind 
could  have  told  of  the  pale  fugitive,  who  sat  for  weary  weeks 
and  months  in  the  wretched  tavern,  where  the  host  brawled 
and  drank,  and  coarse  boozing  was  going  on  while  he  sang 
of  the  ideal.  Heavy  days,  dark  days!  The  heart  must  suf- 
fer and  endure  for  itself  the  trials  it  is  to  sing. 

Dark  days  and  cold  nights  also  passed  over  the  old  bell. 
The  iron  frame  did  not  feel  them,  but  the  bell  within  the 
heart  of  man  is  affected  by  gloomy  times.  How  fared  it 
with  the  young  man?  How  fared  it  with  the  old  bell.  The 
bell  was  carried  far  away,  farther  than  its  sound  could  have 
been  heard  from  the  loftv  tower  in  which  it  had  once  hung. 
And  the  youth?  The  bell  in  his  heart  sounded  farther  than 
his  eye  should  ever  see  or  his  foot  should  ever  wander;  it  is 
sounding  and  sounding  on,  over  the  ocean,  round  the  Avhole 
earth.  But  let  us  firsf  speak  of  the  belfry  bell.  It  was  car- 
ried awav  from  T^Tarbach,  was  sold  for  old  metal,  and  des- 
tined for  the  melting  furnace  in  Bavaria.  But  when  and  how 
did  this  happen?   'in  the  capital  of  Bavaria,  many  years 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES,  13 

after  the  bell  had  fallen  from  the  tower,  there  was  a  talk  of 
its  being  melted  down,  to  be  used  in  the  manufactory  of  a 
memorial  in  honor  of  one  of  the  great  ones  of  the  German 
land.  And  behold  how  suitable  this  was — how  strangely 
and  wonderfully  things  happened  in  the  world!  In  Den- 
mark, on  one  of  those  green  islands  where  the  beech  woods 
rustle,  and  the  many  Huns'  graves  are  to  be  seen,  quite  a 
poor  boy  had  been  born.  He  had  been  accustomed  to  walk 
about  in  wooden  shoes,  and  to  carry  a  dinner  wrapped  in  an 
old  handkerchief  to  his  father,  who  carved  figureheads  on 
the  ship-builders'  wharves;  but  this  poor  lad  had  become 
the  pride  of  his  country,  for  Thorwaldsen  knew  how  to  hew 
marble  blocks  into  such  glorious  shapes  as  made  the  whole 
world  wonder,  and  to  him  had  been  awarded  the  honorable 
commission  that  he  should  fashion  of  clay  a  noble  form  that 
was  to  be  cast  in  bronze — a  statue  of  him  whose  name  the 
father  in  Marbach  had  inscribed  in  the  old  Bible  as  Johann 
Christoph  Friedrich. 

And  the  glowing  metal  flowed  into  the  mold.  The  old 
belfry  bell — of  whose  home  and  of  whose  vanished  sounds 
no  one  thought — this  very  old  bell  flowed  into  the  mold,  and 
formed  the  head  and  bust  of  the  figure  that  was  soon  to  be 
unveiled,  which  now  stands  in  Stuttgart,  before  the  old 
palace — a  representation  of  him  who  once  walked  to  and 
fro  there,  striving  and  suffering,  harassed  by  the  world  with- 
out— he,  the  boy  of  Marbach,  the  pupil  of  the  "Karlschule," 
the  fugitive,  Germany's  great  immortal  poet,  who  sang  of 
the  Hberator  of  Switzerland  and  of  the  Heaven-inspired 
Maid  of  Orleans. 

It  was  a  beautiful,  sunny  day;  flags  were  waving  from 
roofs  and  steeples  in  the  royal  city  of  Stuttgart;  the  bells 
rang  for  joy  and  festivity;  one  bell  alone  was  silent,  but  it 
gleamed  in  another  form  in  the  bright  sunshine — it  gleamed 
from  the  head  and  breast  of  the  statue  of  honor.  On  that 
day,  exactly  one  hundred  years  had  elapsed  since  the  day  on 
which  the  bell  at  Marbach  had  sung  comfort  and  peace  to 
the  suffering  mother,  when  she  bore  her  son,  in  poverty,  in 
the  humble  cottage — him  who  was  afterward  to  become  the 
rich  man,  whose  treasures  enriched  the  world,  the  poet  who 
sang  of  the  noble  virtues  of  women,  who  sang  of  all  that 
was  great  and  glorious — Johann  Christoph  Friedrich  Schil- 
ler. 


14  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 


THE  SNAIL  ANiD  THE  ROSE  TREE. 

Around  the  garden  ran  a  hedge  of  hazels;  beyond  this 
hedge  lay  fields  and  meadows,  wherein  were  cows  and 
sheep;  but  in  the  midst  of  the  garden  stood  a  blooming  Rose 
Tree;  and  under  this  Rose  Tree  lived  a  Snail,  who  had  a 
good'  deal  in  his  shell — namely,  himself. 

"Wait  till  my  time  comes!"  he  said;  "I  shall  do  some- 
thing more  than  produce  roses,  bear  nuts,  or  give  milk,  like 
the  Rose  Tree,  the  hazel  bush,  and  the  cows !" 

"I  expect  a  great  deal  of  you,"  said  the  Rose  Tree.  "But 
may  I  ask  when  it  will  appear?" 

"I  take  my  time,"  replied  the  Snail.  "You're  always  in 
such  a  hurry.  You  don't  rouse  people's  interest  by  sus- 
pense." 

When  the  next  year  came,  the  Snail  lay  almost  in  the 
same  spot,  in  the  sunshine  under  the  Rose  Tree,  which  again 
bore  buds  that  bloomed  into  roses,  until  the  snow  fell  and 
the  weather  became  raw  and  cold;  then  the  Rose  Tree 
bowed  its  head,  and  the  Snail  crept  into  the  ground. 

A  new  year  began,  and  the  roses  came  out,  and  the  Snail 
came  out  also. 

"You're  an  old  Rose  Tree  now!"  said  the  Snail.  You 
must  make  haste  and  come  to  an  end,  for  you  have  given 
the  world  all  that  was  in  you;  whether  it  was  of  any  use  is  a. 
question  that  I  have  had  no  time  to  consider ;  but  so  much  is 
clear  and  plain,  that  you  have  done  nothing  at  all  for  your 
own  development,  or  you  would  have  produced  something 
else.  How  can  you  answer  for  that?  In  a  little  time  you 
will  be  nothing  at  all  but  a  stick.  Do  you  understand  what 
I  say?" 

"You  alarm  me,"  replied  the  Rose  Tree.  "I  never  thought 

of  that  at  all." 

"No,  you  have  not  taken  the  trouble  to  consider  anything. 
Have  you  ever  given  an  account  to  yourself,  why  you 
bloomed,  and  how  it  is  that  your  blooming  comes  about— 
why  it  is  thus,  and  not  otherwise?" 

"No,"  answered  the  Rose  Tree.  "I  bloomed  m  gladness, 
because  I  could  not  do  anything  else.    The  sun  shone  and 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TAL/ES.  15 

warmed  me,  and  the  air  refreshed  me.  I  drank  the  pure  dew 
and  the  fresh  rain,  and  I  Hved,  I  breathed.  Out  of  the  earth 
there  arose  a  power  within  me,  from  above  there  came  down 
a  strength;  I  perceived  a  new,  ever-increasing  happiness, 
and  consequently  I  was  obHged  to  bloom  over  and  over 
again;  that  was  my  life;  I  could  not  do  otherwise." 

"You  have  led  a  very  pleasant  Hfe,"  observed  the  Snail. 

"Certainly.  Everything  I  have  was  given  to  me,"  said 
the  Rose  Tree.  "But  more  still  was  given  to  you.  You 
are  one  of  those  deep,  thoughtful  characters,  one  of  those 
highly  gifted  spirits,  which  will  cause  the  world  to  marvel." 

"I've  no  intention  of  doing  anything  of  the  kind,"  cried 
the  Snail.  "The  world  is  nothing  to  me.  What  have  I  to 
do  with  the  world?  I  have  enough  of  myself  and  in  my- 
self." 

"But  must  we  not  all,  here  on  earth,  give  to  others  the 
best  that  we  have  and  offer  what  lies  in  our  power?  Cer- 
tainly I  have  only  given  roses.  But  you — you  who  have 
been  so  richly  gifted — what  have  you  given  to  the  world? 
what  do  you  intend  to  give?" 

"What  have  I  given — what  do  I  intend  to  give?  I  spit 
at  it.  It's  worth  nothing.  It's  no  business  of  mine.  Con- 
tinue to  give  your  roses,  if  you  like;  you  can't  do  anything 
better.  Let  the  hazel  bush  bear  nuts,  and  the  cows  and 
ewes  give  milk;  they  have  their  public;  but  I  have  mine 
within  myself — I  retire  within  myself,  and  there  I  remain; 
the  world  is  nothing  to  me." 

And  so  saying  the  Snail  retired  into  his  house,  and  closed 
up  the  entrance  after  him. 

"That  is  very  sad !"  said  the  Rose  Tree.  "I  cannot  creep 
into  myself,  even  if  I  wish  it — I  must  continue  to  produce 
roses.  They  drop  their  leaves  and  are  blown  away  by  the 
wind.  But  I  saw  how  a  rose  was  laid  in  the  matron's  hymn- 
book,  and  one  of  my  roses  had  a  place  on  the  bosom  of  a 
fair  young  girl,  and  another  was  kissed  by  the  lips  of  a  child 
in  the  full  joy  of  life.  That  did  me  good ;  it  was  a  real  bless- 
ing.    That's  my  remembrance — my  life !" 

And  the  Rose  Tree  went  on  blooming  in  innocence,  while 
the  Snail  lay  and  idled  away  his  time  in  his  house — the 
world  did  not  concern  him. 

And  years  rolled  by. 

The  Snail  had  become  dust  in  the  dust,  and  the  Rose 


16  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

Tree  was  earth  in  the  earth ;  the  rose  of  remembrance  in  the 
hymn-book  was  faded,  but  in  the  garden  bloomed  fresh 
rose  trees,  and  under  the  trees  lay  new  snails;  and  these 
still  crept  into  their  houses,  and  spat  at  the  world,  for  it  did 
not  concern  them. 

Suppose  we  begin  the  story  again,  and  read  it  right 
through.     It  will  never  alter. 


LITTLE  IDA'S  FLOWERS. 

"My  poor  flowers  are  quite  dead!"  said  little  Ida.  "They 
were  so  pretty  yesterday,  and  now  all  the  leaves  hang 
withered.  Why  do  they  do  that?''  she  asked  the  student, 
who  sat  on  the  sofa;  for  she  liked  him  very  much.  He  knew 
the  prettiest  stories,  and  could  cut  out  the  most  amusing 
pictures — hearts,  with  little  ladies  in  them  who  danced, 
flowers,  and  great  castles,  in  which  one  could  open  the 
doors ;  he  vvas  a  merry  student.  "Why  do  the  flowers  look 
so  faded  to-day?"  she  asked  again,  and  shovv'ed  him  a  nose- 
gay, which  was  quite  withered. 

"Do  you  know  what's  the  matter  ^^^th  them?"  said  the 
student.  "The  flowers  have  been  at  a  ball  last  night,  and 
that's  why  they  hang  their  heads." 

"But  flowers  cannot  dance !"  cried  little  Ida. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  the  student,  "when  it  grows  dark,  and  we 
are  asleep,  they  jump  about  merrily.  Almost  every  night 
they  have  a  ball." 

"Can  children  go  to  this  ball?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  student,  "quite  little  daisies,  and  lilies  of 
the  valley." 

"Where  do  the  beautiful  flowers  dance?"  asked  little  Ida. 

"Have  you  not  often  been  outside  the  town-gate,  by  the 
great  castle,  where  the  King  lives  in  summer,  and  where  the 
beautiful  garden  is  with  all  the  flowers.  You  have  seen  the 
swans,  which  swim  up  to  you  when  you  want  to  give  them 
bread-crumbs?     There  are  capital  balls  there,  believe  me." 

"I  was  out  there  in  the  garden  yesterday,  with  my 
mother,"  said  Ida;  "but  all  the  leaves  were  off  the  trees,  and 
there  was  not  one  flower  left.  Where  are  they?  In  the 
summer  I  saw  so  many." 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  17 

"They  are  within,  in  the  castle,"  repHed  the  student 
"You  must  know,  as  soon  as  the  King  and  all  the  Court  go 
to  town,  the  flowers  run  out  of  the  garden  into  the  castle 
and  are  merry.  You  should  see  that.  The  two  most  beau- 
!;••  tiful  roses  seat  themselves  on  the  throne,  and  then  they  are 
i-'J^King  and  Queen;  all  the  red  coxcombs  range  themselves 
jPr.  on  either  side,  and  stand  and  bow;  they  are  the  chamber- 
lains. Then  all  the  pretty  flowers  come,  and  there  is  a  great 
ball.  The  blue  violets  represent  little  naval  cadets;  they 
dance  with  the  hyacinths  and  crocuses,  which  they  call 
young  ladies ;  the  tulips  and  great  tiger-lilies  are  old  ladies, 
who  keep  watch  that  the  dancing  is  well  done,  and  that 
everything  goes  on  with  propriety." 

"But,"  asked  little  Ida,  "is  nobody  there  who  hurts  the 
flowers  for  dancing  in  the  King's  castle?" 

"There  is  nobody  who  really  knows  about  it,"  answered 
the  student.  "Sometimes,  certainly,  the  old  steward  of  the 
castle  comes  at  night,  and  he  has  to  watch  there.  He  has  a 
great  bunch  of  keys  with  him;  but  as  soon  as  the  flowers 
hear  the  keys  rattle  they  are  quite  quiet,  hide  behind  the 
long  curtains,  and  only  poke  their  heads  out.  Then  the  old 
steward  says,  T  smell  that  there  are  flowers  here,'  but  he 
cannot  see  them." 

"That  is  famous!"  cried  little  Ida,  clapping  her  hands. 
"But  should  I  not  be  able  to  see  the  flowers?'' 

"Yes,"  said  the  student;  "only  remember,  when  you  go 
out  again,  to  peep  through  the  window;  then  you  will  see 
them.  That  is  what  I  did  to-day.  There  was  a  long  yellow 
lily  tying  on  the  sofa  and  stretching  herself.  She  was  a 
Court  lady." 

"Can  the  flowers  out  of  the  Botanical  Garden  get  there? 
Can  they  go  the  long  distance?" 

"Yes,  certainly,"  replied  the  student;  "if  they  like  they 
can  fly.  Have  you  not  seen  the  beautiful  butterflys,  red, 
yellow,  and  white?  They  almost  look  like  flowers,  and  that 
is  what  they  have  been.  They  have  flown  of¥  their  stalks 
high  into  the  air,  and  have  beaten  it  with  their  leaves,  as  if 
these  leaves  were  little  wings,  and  thus  they  flew.  And  be- 
cause they  behaved  themselves  Vv^ell,  they  got  leave  to  fly 
about  in  the  day-time,  too,  and  were  not  obliged  to  sit  still 
upon  their  stalks  at  home;  and  thus  at  last  the  leaves  be- 
came real  wings.     That  you  have  seen  yourself.     It  may  be, 


18  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

however,  that  the  flowers  in  the  Botanical  Garden  have 
never  been  in  the  King's  castle,  or  that  they  don't  know  of 
the  merry  proceedings  there  at  night.  Therefore  I  will  tell 
you  something;  he  will  be  very  much  surprised,  the  botani- 
cal professor,  who  lives  close  by  here.  You  know  him,  do 
you  not?  When  you  come  into  his  garden,  you  must  tell 
one  of  the  flowers  that  there  is  a  great  ball  yonder  at  the 
castle.  Then  that  flower  will  tell  it  to  all  the  rest,  and  then 
they  wnll  fly  away;  when  the  professor  comes  out  into  the 
garden  there  will  not  be  a  single  flower  left,  and  he  won't 
be  able  to  make  out  where  they  are  gone.*' 

"But  how  can  one  flower  tell  it  to  another?  For  you 
know  flowers  cannot  speak.'' 

'That  they  cannot,  certainly,"  replied  the  student;  "but 
then  they  make  signs.  Have  you  not  noticed  that  when  the 
wind  blows  a  little  the  flowers  nod  at  one  another  and  move 
all  their  green  leaves?  They  can  understand  that  just  as 
well  as  we  when  we  speak  together." 

"Can  the  professor  understand  these  signs?"  asked  Ida. 

"Yes,  certainly.  He  came  one  morning  into  his  garden 
and  saw  a  great  stinging-nettle  standing  there,  and  making 
signs  to  a  beautiful  red  carnation  with  its  leaves  It  was 
saying,  'You  are  so  pretty,  and  I  love  you  with  all  my 
heart.'  But  the  professor  does  not  like  that  kind  of  thing, 
and  he  directly  slapped  the  stinging-nettle  upon  its  leaves, 
for  those  are  its  fingers;  but  he  stung  himself,  and  since  that 
time  he  has  not  dared  to  touch  a  stinging-nettle." 

"That  is  funny,"  cried  little  Ida;  and  she  laughed. 

"How  can  anyone  put  such  notions  into  a  child's  head?" 
said  the  tiresome  privy  councilor,  who  had  come  to  pay  a 
visit,  and  was  sitting  on  the  sofa.  He  did  not  like  the  stu- 
dent, and  always  grumbled  when  he  saw  him  cutting  out 
the  merry  funny  pictures — sometimes  a  man  hanging  on  a 
gibbet  and  holding  a  heart  in  his  hand,  to  show  that  he  stole 
hearts;  sometimes  an  old  witch  riding  on  a  broom  and  car- 
rying her  husband  on  her  nose.  The  councilor  could  not 
bear  this,  and  then  he  said,  just  as  he  did  now,  "How  can 
anyone  put  such  notions  into  a  child's  head?  Those  are 
stupid  fancies!" 

But,  to  little  Ida,  what  the  student  told  her  about  her 
flowers  seemed  very  droll;  and  she  thought  much  about  it. 
The  flowers  hung  their  heads,  for  they  were  tired,  because 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY   TALES.  19 

they  had  danced  all  night:  they  were  certainly  ill.  Then 
she  went  with  them  to  her  other  toys,  which  stood  on  a 
pretty  little  table,  and  the  whole  drawer  was  full  of  beautiful 
things.  In  the  doll's  bed  lay  her  doll  Sophy,  asleep;  but 
little  Ida  said  to  her: 

"You  must  really  get  up,  Sophy,  and  manage  to  lie  in  the 
drawer  for  to-night.  The  poor  flowers  are  ill,  and  they 
must  lie  in  your  bed;  perhaps  they  will  then  get  well 
again." 

And  she  at  once  took  the  doll  out;  but  the  doll  looked 
cross,  and  did  not  say  a  single  word;  for  she  was  cross  be- 
cause she  could  not  keep  her  own  bed. 

Then  Ida  laid  the  flowers  in  the  doll's  bed,  pulled  the  little 
coverlet  quite  up  over  them,  and  said  they  were  to  lie  still 
and  be  good,  and  she  would  make  them  some  tea,  so  that 
they  might  get  well  again,  and  be  able  to  get  up  to-morrow. 
And  she  drew  the  curtains  closely  round  the  little  bed,  so 
that  the  sun  should  not  shine  in  their  eyes.  The  whole  even- 
ing through  she  could  not  help  thinking  of  what  the  student 
had  told  her.  And  when  she  was  going  to  bed  herself,  she 
was  obliged  first  to  look  behind  the  curtain  which  hung  be- 
fore the  windows  where  her  mother's  beautiful  flowers  stood 
— hyacinths  as  well  as  tulips;  then  she  whispered,  'T  know 
you're  going  to  the  ball  to-night!"  But  the  flowers  made 
as  if  they  did  not  understand  a  word,  and  did  not  stir  a  leaf; 
but  still  little  Ida  knew  what  she  knew. 

When  she  was  in  bed  she  lay  for  a  long  time  thinking  how 
pretty  it  must  be  to  see  the  beautiful  flowers  dancing  out  in 
the  King's  castle.  "I  wonder  if  my  flowers  have  really  been 
there?"  And  then  she  fell  asleep.  In  the  night  she  woke 
again:  she  had  dreamed  of  the  flowers,  and  of  the  student 
with  whom  the  councilor  found  fault.  It  was  quite  quiet  in 
the  bedroom  where  Ida  lay;  the  night-lamp  burned  on  the 
table,  and  her  father  and  mother  were  asleep. 

'T  wonder  if  my  flowers  are  still  lying  in  Sophy's  bed?'' 
she  thought  to  herself.  "How  I  should  like  to  know  it!" 
She  raised  herself  a  little,  and  looked  at  the  door,  which 
stood  ajar;  within  lay  the  flowers  and  all  her  playthings. 
She  listened,  and  then  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  heard  some- 
one playing  on  the  piano  in  the  next  room,  but  quite  softly 
and  prettily,  as  she  had  never  heard  it  before.  "Now  all 
the  flowers  are  certainly  dancing  in  there!"  thought  she. 


20  ANDEPuSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"Oh,  how  glad  I  should  be  to  see  it!"  But  she  dared  not 
get  up,  for  she  would  have  disturbed  her  father  and  mother. 

"If  they  would  only  come  in!''  thought  she.  But  the 
flowers  did  not  come,  and  the  music  continued  to  play  beau- 
tifully; then  she  could  not  bear  it  any  longer,  for  it  was  too 
pretty;  she  crept  out  of  her  little  bed,  and  went  quietly  to 
the  door,  and  looked  into  the  room.  Oh,  how  splendid  it 
was,  what  she  saw! 

There  was  no  night-lamp  burning,  but  still  it  was  quite 
light:  the  moon  shone  through  the  window  into  the  middle 
of  the  floor;  it  was  almost  like  day.  All  the  hyacinths  and 
tulips  stood  in  two  long  rows  in  the  room;  there  were  none 
at  all  left  at  the  window.  There  stood  the  empty  flower-pots. 
On  the  floor  all  the  flowers  were  dancing  very  gracefully 
round  each  other,  making  perfect  turns,  and  holding  each 
other  by  the  long  green  leaves  as  they  swung  round.  But 
at  the  piano  sat  a  great  yellow  lily  which  little  Ida  had  cer- 
tainly seen  in  summer,  for  she  remembered  how  the  student 
had  said,  "How  like  that  one  is  to  Miss  Lina."  Then  he 
had  been  laughed  at  by  all;  but  now  it  seemed  really  to  little 
Ida  as  if  the  long  yellow  flower  looked  like  the  young  lady; 
and  it  had  just  her  manners  in  playing — sometimes  bend- 
ing its  long  yellow  face  to  one  side,  sometimes  to  the  other, 
and  nodding  in  tune  to  the  charming  music!  No  one  noticed 
little  Ida.  Then  she  saw  a  great  blue  crocus  hop  into  the 
middle  of  the  table,  where  the  toys  stood,  and  go  to  the 
doll's  bed  and  pull  the  curtains  aside:  there  lay  the  sick 
flowers,  but  they  got  up  directly,  and  nodded  to  the  others, 
to  say  that  they  wanted  to  dance,  too.  The  old  chimney- 
sweep doll,  whose  under  lip  Avas  broken  off,  stood  up  and 
bowed  to  the  pretty  flowers:  these  did  not  look  at  all  ill  now; 
they  jumped  down  to  the  others,  and  were  very  merry. 

Then  it  seemed  as  if  something  fell  down  from  the  table. 
Ida  looked  that  way.  It  was  the  birch  rod  which  was  jump- 
ing down!  it  seemed  almost  as  if  it  belonged  to  the  flowers. 
At  any  rate,  it  was  very  neat ;  and  a  little  wax  doll,  with  just 
such  a  broad  hat  on  its  head  as  the  councilor  wore,  sat  upon 
it.  The  birch  rod  hopped  about  among  the  flowers  on  its 
three  stilted  legs,  and  stamped  quite  loud,  for  it  was  dancing 
the  mazurka;  and  the  other  flowers  could  not  manage  that 
dance,  because  thev  were  too  light,  and  unable  to  stam.p  like 
that. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  21 

The  wax  doll  on  the  birch  rod  all  at  once  became  quite 
great  and  long,  turned  itself  over  the  paper  flowers,  and 
said,  "How  can  one  put  such  things  in  a  child's  head?  those 
are  stupid  fancies!''  and  then  the  wax  doll  was  exactly  like 
the  councilor  with  the  broad  hat,  and  looked  just  as  yellow 
and  cross  as  he.  But  the  paper  flowers  hit  him  on  his  thin 
legs,  and  then  he  shrank  up  again,  and  became  quite  a  little 
wax  doll.  That  was  very  amusing  to  see;  and  little  Ida 
could  not  restrain  her  laughter.  The  birch  rod  went  on 
dancing,  and  the  councilor  was  obliged  to  dance  too ;  it  was 
no  use,  he  might  make  himself  great  and  long,  or  remain 
the  little  yellow  wax  doll  with  the  big  black  hat.  Then  the 
other  flowers  put  in  a  good  word  for  him,  especially  those 
who  had  lain  in  the  doll's  bed,  and  then  the  birch  rod  gave 
over.  At  the  same  moment  there  was  a  loud  knocking  at 
the  drawer,  inside  where  Ida's  doll,  Sophy,  lay  with  many 
other  toys.  The  chimney-sweep  ran  to  the  edge  of  the  table, 
lay  flat  down  on  his  stomach,  and  began  to  pull  the  drawer 
out  a  little.  Then  Sophy  raised  herself,  and  looked  round 
quite  astonished. 

"There  must  be  a  ball  here,"  said  she;  "why  did  nobody 
tell  me?" 

"Will  you  dance  with  me?"  asked  the  chimney-sweep. 

"You  are  a  nice  sort  of  fellow  to  dance !"  she  replied,  and 
turned  her  back  upon  him. 

Then  she  seated  herself  upon  the  drawer,  and  thought 
that  one  of  the  flowers  would  come  and  ask  her;  but  not  one 
of  them  came.  Then  she  coughed,  "Hem !  hem !  hem !"  but 
for  all  that  not  one  came.  The  chimney-sweep  now  danced 
all  alone,  and  that  was  not  at  all  so  bad. 

As  none  of  the  flowers  seemed  to  notice  Sophy,  she  let 
herself  fall  down  from  the  drawer  straight  upon  the  floor,  so 
that  there  was  a  great  noise.  The  flowers  now  all  came  run- 
ning up,  to  ask  if  she  had  not  hurt  herself;  and  they  were 
all  very  polite  to  her,  especially  the  flowers  that  had  lain  in 
her  bed.  But  she  had  not  hurt  herself  at  all;  and  Ida's  flow- 
ers all  thanked  her  for  the  nice  bed,  and  were  kind  to  her, 
took  her  into  the  middle  of  the  room,  where  the  moon  shone 
in,  and  danced  with  her;  and  all  the  other  flowers  formed  a 
circle  round  her.  Now  Sophy  was  glad,  and  said  they 
might  keep  her  bed;  she  did  not  at  all  mind  lying  in  the 
drawer. 


22  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

But  the  flowers  said,  "We  thank  you  heartily,  but  in  any 
way  we  cannot  hve  long.  To-morrow  we  shall  be  quite 
dead.  But  tell  little  Ida  she  is  to  bury  us  out  in  the  garden, 
where  the  canary  lies ;  then  we  shall  wake  up  again  in  sum- 
mer, and  be  far  more  beautiful." 

*'No,  you  must  not  die,"  said  Sophy;  and  she  kissed  the 
flowers. 

Then  the  door  opened,  and  a  great  number  of  splendid 
flowers  came  dancing  in.  Ida  could  not  imagine  whence 
they  had  come ;  these  must  certainly  all  be  flowers  from  the 
King's  castle  yonder.  First  of  all  came  two  glorious  roses, 
and  they  had  little  gold  crowns  on ;  they  were  a  King  and  a 
Queen.  Then  came  the  prettiest  stocks  and  carnations ;  and 
they  bowed  in  all  directions.  They  had  music  with  them. 
Great  poppies  and  peonies  blew  upon  pea-pods  till  they 
were  quite  red  in  the  face.  The  blue  hyacinths  and  the  little 
white  snowdrops  rang  just  as  if  they  had  been  bells.  That 
was  wonderful  music!  Then  came  many  other  flowers, 
and  danced  altogether;  the  blue  violets  and  the  pink  prim- 
roses, daisies  and  the  lilies  of  the  valley.  And  all  the  flow- 
ers kissed  one  another.     It  was  beautiful  to  look  at! 

At  last  the  flowers  wished  one  another  good-night;  then 
little  Ida,  too,  crept  to  bed,  where  she  dreamed  of  all  she  had 
seen. 

When  she  rose  next  morning,  she  went  quickly  to  the  lit- 
tle table,  to  see  if  the  little  flowers  were  still  there.  She 
drew  aside  the  curtains  of  the  little  bed;  there  were  they 
all,  bvit  they  were  quite  faded,  far  more  than  yesterday. 
Sophy  was  lying  in  the  drawer  where  Ida  had  laid  her;  she 
looked  very  sleepy. 

''Do  you  remember  what  you  were  to  say  to  me?"  asked 
little  Ida. 

But  Sophy  stood  quite  stupid,  and  did  not  say  a  single 
word. 

"You  are  not  good  at  all!"  said  Ida.  "And  yet  they  all 
danced  with  you." 

Then  she  took  a  little  paper  box,  on  which  were  painted 
beautiful  birds,  and  opened  it,  and  laid  the  dead  flowers 
in  it. 

"That  shall  be  your  pretty  cof¥in,"  said  she,  "and  when  my 
cousins  come  to  visit  me  by-and-by,  they  shall  help  me  to 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  23 

bury  you  outside  in  the  garden,  so  that  you  may  grow  again 
in  summer,  and  become  more  beautiful  than  ever." 

These  cousins  were  two  merry  boys.  Their  names  were 
Gustave  and  Adolphe ;  their  father  had  given  them  two  new 
crossbows,  and  they  had  brought  these  with  them  to  show 
to  Ida.  She  told  them  about  the  poor  flowers  that  had  died, 
and  then  they  got  leave  to  bury  them.  The  two  boys  were 
first,  with  their  crossbows  on  their  shoulders,  and  little  Ida 
followed  with  the  dead  flowers  in  the  pretty  box.  Out  in 
the  garden  a  little  grave  was  dug.  Ida  first  kissed  the 
fiowers,  and  then  laid  them  in  the  earth  in  the  box,  and 
Adolphe  and  Gustave  shot  with  their  crossbows  over  the 
grave,  for  they  had  neither  guns  nor  cannons. 


THE  TINDER-BOX. 

There  came  a  soldier  marching  along  the  high  road — 
one,  two !  one,  two !  He  had  his  knapsack  on  his  back  and 
a  saber  by  his  side,  for  he  had  been  in  the  wars,  and  now  he 
wanted  to  go  home.  And  on  the  way  he  met  with  an  old 
witch;  she  was  very  hideous,  and  her  under  lip  hung  down 
upon  her  breast.  She  said,  "Good  evening,  soldier.  What 
a  fine  sword  you  have,  and  what  a  big  knapsack!  You're 
a  proper  soldier.  Now  you  shall  have  as  much  money  as 
you  like  to  have." 

"I  thank  you,  you  old  witch !"  said  the  soldier. 

"Do  you  see  that  great  tree?"  quoth  the  witch;  and  she 
pointed  to  a  tree  which  stood  beside  them.  "It's  quite 
hollow  inside.  You  must  climb  to  the  top,  and  then  you'll 
see  a  hole,  through  which  you  can  let  yourself  down  and  get 
deep  into  the  tree.  I'll  tie  a  rope  round  your  body,  so  that 
I  can  pull  you  up  again  when  you  call  me." 

"What  am  I  to  do  down  in  the  tree?"  asked  the  soldier. 

"Get  money,"  replied  the  v/itch.  "Listen  to  me.  When 
you  come  down  to  the  earth  under  the  tree,  you  will  find 
yourself  in  a  great  hall :  it  is  quite  light,  for  above  three  hun- 
dred lamps  are  burning  there.  Then  you  will  see  three 
doors;  those  you  can  open,  for  the  keys  are  hanging  there. 
If  you  go  into  the  first  chamber,  you'll  see  a  great  chest  in 
the  middle  of  the  floor;  on  this  chest  sits  a  dog,  and  he's  got 


24  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

a  pair  of  eyes  as  big  as  two  tea-cups.  But  you  need  not 
care  for  that.  I'll  give  you  my  blue-checked  apron,  and 
you  can  spread  it  out  upon  the  floor ;  then  go  up  quickly  and 
take  the  dog,  and  set  him  on  my  apron ;  then  open  the  chest, 
and  take  as  many  shillings  as  you  like.  They  are  of  copper; 
if  you  prefer  silver,  you  must  go  into  the  second  chamber. 
But  there  sits  a  dog  with  a  pair  of  eyes  as  big  as  mill-wheels. 
But  do  not  you  care  for  that.  Set  him  upon  my  apron,  and 
take  some  of  the  money.  And  if  you  want  gold,  you  can 
have  that,  too — in  fact,  as  much  as  you  can  carry — if  you 
go  into  the  third  chamber.  But  the  dog  that  sits  on  the 
money-chest  there  has  two  eyes  as  big  as  round  towers.  He 
is  a  fierce  dog,  you  may  be  sure ;  but  you  needn't  be  afraid, 
for  all  that.  Only  set  him  on  my  apron,  and  he  won't  hurt 
you ;  and  take  out  of  the  chest  as  much  gold  as  you  like." 

"That's  not  so  bad,"  said  the  soldier.  "But  what  am  I  to 
give  you,  old  witch?  for  you  will  not  do  it  for  nothing,  I 
fancy." 

"No,"  replied  the  witch,  "not  a  single  shilling  will  I  have. 
You  shall  only  bring  me  an  old  tinder-box  which  my  grand- 
mother forgot  when  she  was  down  there  last." 

"Then  tie  the  rope  round  my  body,"  cried  the  soldier. 

"Here  it  is,"  said  the  witch,  "and  here's  my  blue-checked 
apron." 

Then  the  soldier  climbed  up  into  the  tree,  let  himself  slip 
down  into  the  hole,  and  stood,  as  the  witch  had  said,  in  the 
great  hall  where  the  three  hundred  lamps  were  burning. 

Now  he  opened  the  first  door.  Ugh!  there  sat  the  dog 
with  eyes  as  big  as  tea-cups  staring  at  him.  "You're  a  nice 
fellow!"  exclaimed  the  soldier;  and  he  sat  him  on  the  witch's 
apron,  and  took  as  many  copper  shillings  as  his  pockets 
would  hold,  and  then  locked  the  chest,  set  the  dog  on  it 
again,  and  went  into  the  second  chamber.  Aha!  there  sat 
the  dog  with  eyes  as  big  as  mill-wheels. 

"You  should  not  stare  so  hard  at  me,"  said  the  soldier; 
"you  might  strain  your  eyes."  And  he  set  the  dog  upon  the 
witch's  apron.  And  when  he  saw  the  silver  money  in  the 
chest,  he  threw  away  all  the  copper  money  he  had,  and  filled 
his  pocket  and  his  knapsack  with  silver  only.  Then  he 
went  into  the  third  chamber.  Oh,  but  that  was  horrid! 
The  dog  there  really  had  eyes  as  big  as  towers,  and  they 
turned  round  and  round  in  his  head  like  wheels. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES,  25 

"Good  evening!"  said  the  soldier;  and  he  touched  his  cap, 
for  he  had  never  seen  such  a  dog  as  that  before.  When  he 
had  looked  at  him  a  little  more  closely,  he  thought,  "that 
will  do,''  and  lifted  him  down  to  the  floor,  and  opened  the 
chest.  Mercy!  what  a  quantity  of  gold  was  there!  He  could 
buy  with  it  the  whole  town,  and  the  sugar  sucking-pigs  of 
the  cake  woman,  and  all  the  tin  soldiers,  whips,  and  rock- 
ing-horses in  the  whole  world.  Yes,  that  was  a  quantity  of 
money !  Now  the  soldier  threw  away  all  the  silver  coin  with 
which  he  had  filled  his  pockets  and  his  knapsack,  and  took 
gold  instead;  yes,  all  his  pockets,  his  knapsack,  his  boots, 
and  his  cap  were  filled,  so  that  he  could  scarcely  walk. 
Now  indeed  he  had  plenty  of  money.  He  put  the  dog  on 
the  chest,  shut  the  door,  and  then  called  up  through  the 
tree,  "now  pull  me  up,  you  old  vv^itch." 

"Have  you  the  tinder-box?"  asked  the  witch. 

"Plague  on  it!"  exclaimed  the  soldier,  "I  had  clean  for- 
gotten that."     And  he  went  and  brought  it. 

The  witch  drew  him  up,  and  he  stood  on  the  high  road 
again,  with  pockets,  boots,  knapsack,  and  cap  full  of  gold. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  the  tinder-box?"  asked 
the  soldier. 

"That's  nothing  to  you,"  retorted  the  witch.  "You've 
had  your  money — just  give  me  the  tinder-box." 

"Nonsense!"  said  the  soldier.  "Tell  me  directly  what 
you're  going  to  do  with  it,  or  I'll  draw  my  sword  and  cut  off 
your  head." 

"No !"  cried  the  witch. 

So  the  soldier  cut  off  her  head.  There  she  lay.  But  he 
tied  up  all  his  money  in  her  apron,  took  it  on  his  back  like  a 
bundle,  put  the  tinder-box  in  his  pocket,  and  went  straight 
off  toward  the  town. 

That  was  a  splendid  tovv^n!  And  he  put  up  at  the  very 
best  inn  and  asked  for  the  finest  rooms,  and  ordered  his 
favorite  dishes,  for  now  he  was  rich,  as  he  had  so  much 
money.  The  servant  who  had  to  clean  his  boots  certainly 
thought  them  a  remarkably  old  pair  for  such  a  rich  gentle- 
man ;  but  he  had  not  bought  any  new  ones  yet.  The  next 
day  he  procured  proper  boots  and  handsome  clothes.  Now 
our  soldier  had  become  a  fine  gentleman;  and  the  people* 
told  him  of  all  the  splendid  things  which  were  in  their  city, 


25  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

and  about  the  King,  and  what  a  pretty  princess  the  King's 
daughter  was. 

"Where  can  one  get  to  see  her?"  asked  the  soldier. 

"She  is  not  to  be  seen  at  all,"  said  they,  all  together;  "she 
lives  in  a  great  copper  castle,  with  a  great  many  walls  and 
towers  round  about  it;  no  one  but  the  King  may  go  in  and 
out  there,  for  it  has  been  prophesied  that  she  shall  marry  a 
common  soldier,  and  the  King  can't  bear  that." 

"I  should  like  to  see  her,"  thought  the  soldier;  but  he 
could  not  get  leave  to  do  so.  Now  he  lived  merrily,  went 
to  the  theater,  drove  in  the  King's  garden,  and  gave  much 
money  to  the  poor;  and  this  was  very  kind  of  him,  for  he 
knew  from  old  times  how  hard  it  is  when  one  has  not  a  shil- 
ling. Now  he  was  rich,  had  fine  clothes,  and  gained  many 
friends,  who  all  said  he  was  a  rare  one,  a  true  cavalier;  and 
that  pleased  the  soldier  well.  But  as  he  spent  money  every 
day  and  never  earned  any,  he  had  at  last  only  two  shillings 
left;  and  he  was  obliged  to  turn  out  of  the  fine  rooms  in 
which  he  had  dwelt,  and  had  to  live  in  a  little  garret  under 
the  roof,  and  clean  his  boots  for  himself,  and  m.end  them 
with  a  darning-needle.  None  of  his  friends  came  to  see 
him,  for  there  were  too  many  stairs  to  clirnb. 

It  was  quite  dark  one  evening,  and  he  could  not  even  buy 
himself  a  candle,  when  it  occurred  to  him  that  there  was  a 
candle-end  in  the  tinder-box  which  he  had  taken  out  of  the 
hollow  tree  into  which  the  witch  had  helped  him.  He 
brought  out  the  tinder-box  and  the  candle-end ;  but  as  soon 
as  he  struck  fire  and  the  sparks  rose  up  from  the  flint,  the 
door  flew  open,  and  the  dog  who  had  eyes  as  big  as  a  couple 
of  tea-cups  and  whom  he  had  seen  in  the  tree,  stood  before 
him,  and  said: 

"What  are  my  lord's  commands?" 

"What  is  this?"  said  the  soldier.  "That's  a  famous  tinder- 
box,  if  I  can  get  everything  with  it  that  I  want !  Bring  me 
some  money,"  said  he  to  the  dog:  and  whisk!  the  dog  was 
gone,  and  whisk!  he  was  back  again,  with  a  great  bag  full 
of  shillings  in  his  mouth. 

Now  the  soldier  knew  what  a  capital  tinder-box  this  was. 
If  he  struck  it  once,  the  dog  came  who  sat  upon  the  chest  of 
copper  money:  if  he  struck  it  twice,  the  dog  came  who  had 
the  silver;  and  if  he  struck  it  three  times,  then  appeared  the 
dog  who  had  the  gold.    Now  the  soldier  moved  back  into 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  27 

the  fine  rooms,  and  appeared  again  in  handsome  clothes; 
and  all  his  friends  knew  him  again,  and  cared  very  much  for 
him  indeed. 

Once  he  thought  to  himself,  "It  is  a  very  strange  thing 
that  one  cannot  get  to  see  the  Princess.  They  all  say  she  is 
very  beautiful;  but  what  is  the  use  of  that,  if  she  has  always 
to  sit  in  the  great  copper  castle  with  the  many  towers?  Can 
I  not  get  to  see  her  at  all?  Where  is  my  tinder-box?"  And 
so  he  struck  a  light,  and  whisk !  came  the  dog  with  eyes  as 
big  as  tea-cups. 

"It  is  midnight,  certainly,"  said  the  soldier,  "but  I  should 
very  much  like  to  see  the  Princess,  only  for  one  little  mo- 
ment." 

And  the  dog  was  outside  the  door  directly,  and,  before 
the  soldier  thought  it,  came  back  with  the  Princess.  She 
sat  upon  the  dog's  back  and  slept;  and  everyone  could  see 
she  was  a  real  Princess,  for  she  was  so  lovely.  The  soldier 
could  not  refrain  from  kissing  her,  for  he  was  a  thorough 
soldier.  Then  the  dog  ran  back  again  with  the  Princess. 
But  when  morning  came,  and  the  King  and  Queen  were 
drinking  tea,  the  Princess  said  she  had  had  a  strange  dream, 
the  night  before,  about  a  dog  and  a  soldier — that  she  had 
ridden  upon  the  dog,  and  the  soldier  had  kissed  her. 

"That  would  be  a  fine  history!"  said  the  Queen. 

So  one  of  the  old  Court  ladies  had  to  watch  the  next 
night  by  the  Princess'  bed,  to  see  if  this  was  really  a  dream, 
or  what  it  might  be. 

The  soldier  had  a  great  longing  to  see  the  lovely  Princess 
again;  so  the  dog  came  in  the  night,  took  her  away,  and 
ran  as  fast  as  he  could.  But  the  old  lady  put  on  water-boots, 
and  ran  just  as  fast  after  him.  When  she  saw  that  they 
both  entered  a  great  house,  she  thought  "Now  I  know 
where  it  is ;"  and  with  a  bit  of  chalk  she  drew  a  great  cross 
on  the  door.  Then  she  went  home  and  lay  down,  and  the 
dog  came  up  with  the  Princess ;  but  when  he  saw  that  there 
was  a  cross  drawn  on  the  door  where  the  soldier  lived,  he 
took  a  piece  of  chalk  too,  and  drew  crosses  on  all  the  doors 
in  the  town.  And  that  was  cleverly  done,  for  now  the  lady 
could  not  find  the  right  door,  because  all  the  doors  had 
crosses  upon  them. 

In  the  morning  early  came  the  King  and  the  Queen,  the 
old  Court  lady  and  all  the  officers,  to  see  where  it  was  the 


28  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

Princess  had  been.  "Here  it  is!"  said  the  King,  when  he 
saw  the  first  door  with  a  cross  upon  it.  "Nq,  my  dear  hus- 
band, it  is  there!"  said  the  Queen,  who  descried  another 
door  which  also  showed  a  cross.  "But  there  is  one,  and 
tliere  is  one!"  said  all,  for  wherever  they  looked  there  were 
crosses  on  the  doors.  So  they  saw  that  it  would  avail  them 
nothing  if  they  searched  on. 

But  the  Queen  was  an  exceedingly  clever  woman,  who 
could  do  more  than  ride  in  a  coach.  She  took  her  great 
gold  scissors,  cut  a  piece  of  silk  into  pieces,  and  made  a 
neat  little  bag;  this  bag  she  filled  with  fine  wheat  flour,  and 
tied  it  on  the  Princess'  back;  and  v\?hen  that  was  done,  she 
cut  a  little  hole  in  the  bag,  so  that  the  flour  would  be  scat- 
tered along  all  the  way  which  the  Princess  should  take. 

In  the  night  the  dog  came  again,  took  the  Princess  on 
his  back,  and  ran  with  her  to  the  soldier,  v/ho  loved  her  very 
much,  and  would  gladly  have  been  a  prince,  so  that  he 
might  have  her  for  his  wife.  The  dog  did  not  notice  at  all 
how  the  flour  ran  out  in  a  stream  from  the  castle  to  the  win- 
dows of  the  soldier's  house,  where  he  ran  up  the  wall  with 
the  Princess.  In  the  morning  the  King  and  Queen  saw 
well  enough  where  their  daughter  had  been,  and  the}^  took 
the  soldier  and  put  him  in  prison. 

There  he  sat.  Oh,  but  it  was  dark  and  disagreeable 
there!  And  they  said  to  him,  "To-morrow  you  shall  be 
hanged."  That  was  not  amusing  to  hear,  and  he  had  left 
his  tinder-box  at  the  inn.  In  the  morning  he  could  see, 
through  the  iron  grating  of  the  little  window,  how  the  peo- 
ple were  hurrying  out  of  the  town  to  see  him  hanged.  He 
heard  the  drums  beat  and  saw  the  soldiers  marching.  All 
the  people  were  running  out,  and  among  them  was  a  shoe- 
maker's boy  with  leather  apron  and  slippers,  and  he  gal- 
loped so  fast  that  one  of  his  slippers  flew  off,  and  came 
right  against  the  wall  where  the  soldier  sat  looking  through 
the  iron  grating. 

"Halloo,  you  shoemaker's  boy!  you  needn't  be  in  such  a 
hurry,"  cried  the  soldier  to  him;  "it  will  not  begin  till  I 
come.  But  if  you  will  run  to  where  I  lived,  and  bring  me 
my  tinder-box,  you  shall  have  four  shillings;  but  you  must 
put  your  best  leg  foremost." 

The  shoemaker's  boy  wanted  to  get  the  four  shillings,  so 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  29 

he  went  and  brought  the  tinder-box,  and — well,  we  shall 
hear  now  what  happened. 

Outside  the  town  a  great  gallows  had  been  built,  and 
around  it  stood  the  soldiers  and  many  hundred  thousand 
people.  The  King  and  Queen  sat  on  a  splendid  throne,  op- 
posite to  the  Judges  and  the  whole  Council.  The  soldier 
already  stood  upon  the  ladder;  but  as  they  were  about  to 
put  the  rope  round  his  neck,  he  said  that  before  a  poor 
criminal  suffered  his  punishment  an  innocent  request  was 
always  granted  to  him.  He  wanted  very  much  to  smoke  a 
pipe  of  tobacco,  as  it  would  be  the  last  pipe  he  should  smoke 
in  the  world.  The  King  would  not  say  ''No''  to  this;  so  the 
soldier  took  his  tinder-box  and  struck  fire.  One — two — 
three! — and  there  suddenly  stood  all  the  dogs — the  one  with 
eyes  as  big  as  tea-cups,  the  one  with  eyes  as  large  as  mill- 
wheels,  and  the  one  whose  eyes  were  as  big  as  round  towers. 

"Help  me  now,  so  that  I  may  not  be  hanged,"  said  the 
soldier.  And  the  dogs  fell  upon  the  Judge  and  all  the 
Council,  seized  one  by  the  leg  and  another  by  the  nose,  and 
tossed  them  all  many  feet  into  the  air,  so  that  they  fell  down 
and  were  all  broken  to  pieces. 

"I  won't!"  cried  the  King;  but  the  biggest  dog  took  him 
and  the  Queen  and  threw  them  after  the  others.  Then  the 
soldiers  were  afraid,  and  the  people  cried,  "Little  soldier, 
you  shall  be  our  King,  and  marry  the  beautiful  Princess!" 

So  they  put  the  soldier  into  the  King's  coach,  and  all  the 
three  dogs  darted  on  in  front  and  cried  "Hurrah!"  and  the 
boys  whistled  through  their  fingers,  and  the  soldiers  pre- 
sented arms.  The  Princess  came  out  of  the  copper  castle, 
and  became  Queen,  and  she  liked  that  well  enough.  The 
wedding  lasted  a  week,  and  the  three  dogs  sat  at  the  table, 
too,  and  opened  their  eyes  wider  than  ever  at  all  they  saw. 


GREAT  CLAUS  AND  LITTLE  CLAUS. 

There  lived  two  men  in  one  village,  and  they  had  the  same 
name — each  was  called  Claus;  but  one  had  four  horses  and 
the  other  only  a  single  horse.  To  distinguish  them  from 
each  other,  folks  called  him  who  had  four  horses  Great 
Claus,  and  the  one  who  had  only  a  single  horse  Little  Claus. 


80  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

Now  we  shall  hear  what  happened  to  each  of  them,  for  this 
is  a  true  story.  ' 

The  whole  week  through  little  Claus  was  obliged  to  plow 
for  Great  Claus,  and  to  lend  him  his  one  horse;  then  Great 
Claus  helped  him  out  with  all  his  four,  but  only  once  a 
week,  and  that  on  a  holiday.  Hurrah!  how  Little  Claus 
smacked  his  whip  over  all  five  horses,  for  they  vv^ere  as 
good  as  his  own  on  that  one  day.  The  sun  shone  gayly, 
and  all  the  bells  in  the  steeples  were  ringing;  the  people 
were  all  dressed  in  their  best,  and  were  going  to  church, 
with  their  hymn-books  under  their  arms,  to  hear  the  clergy- 
man preach,  and  they  saw  Little  Claus  plowing  with  five 
horses;  but  he  was  so  merry  that  he  smacked  his  whip 
again  and  again,  and  cried,  "Gee  up,  all  my  five!" 

"You  must  not  talk  so,"  said  Great  Claus,  "for  only  the 
one  horse  is  yours." 

But  when  no  one  was  passing  Little  Claus  forgot  that  he 
was  not  to  say  this,  and  he  cried,  "Gee  up,  all  my  horses!" 

"Now,  I  must  beg  of  you  to  let  that  alone,"  cried  Great 
Claus,  "for  if  you  say  it  again,  I  shall  hit  your  horse  on  the 
head  so  that  it  will  fall  down  dead,  and  then  it  will  be  all 
over  with  him." 

"I  will  certainly  not  say  it  any  more,"  said  Little  Claus. 

But  when  people  came  by  soon  afterward  and  nodded 
"good  day"  to  him,  he  became  very  glad,  and  thought  it 
looked  very  well  after  all  that  he  had  five  horses  to  plow  his 
field;  and  so  he  smacked  his  whip  again,  and  cried,  "Gee 
up,  all  my  horses!" 

"I'll  'gee  up'  your  horses!"'  said  Great  Claus.  And  he 
took  the  hatchet  and  hit  the  only  horse  of  Little  Claus  on 
the  head,  so  that  it  fell  down  and  was  dead  immediately. 

"Oh,  now  I  haven't  any  horse  at  all!"  said  Little  Claus, 
and  began  to  cry. 

Then  he  flayed  the  horse,  and  let  the  hide  dry  in  the  wind, 
and  put  it  in  a  sack  and  hung  it  over  his  shoulder,  and  went 
to  the  town  to  sell  his  horse's  skin.  fB. 

He  had  a  very  long  way  to  go,  and  was  obliged  to  pass 
through  a  great  dark  wood,  and  the  weather  became  dread- 
fully bad.  He  went  quite  astray,  and  before  he  got  into  the 
right  way  again  it  was  evening,  and  it  was  too  far  to  get 
home  again  or  even  to  the  town  before  nightfall. 

Close  by  the  road  stood  a  large  farm-house.    The  shut- 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  31 

ters  were  closed  outside  the  windows,  but  the  hght  could 
still  be  seen  shining  out  over  them. 

"I  may  be  able  to  get  leave  to  stop  here  through  the 
night,"  thought  Little  Claus;  and  he  went  and  knocked. 

The  farmer's  wife  opened  the  door;  but  when  she  heard 
what -he  wanted  she  told  him  to  go  away,  declaring  that  her 
husband  was  not  at  home,  and  she  would  not  receive 
strangers. 

"Then  I  shall  have  to  lie  outside,"  said  Little  Claus.  And 
the  farmer's  wife  shut  the  door  in  his  face. 

Close  by  stood  a  great  haystack,  and  between  this  and  the 
farm-house  was  a  little  outhouse  thatched  with  straw, 

"Up  there  I  can  lie,"  said  Little  Claus,  when  he  looked  up 
at  the  roof;  "that  is  a  capital  bed.  I  suppose  the  stork  won't 
fl[y  down  and  bite  me  in  the  legs."  For  a  living  stork  was 
standing  on  the  roof,  where  he  had  his  nest. 

Now  Little  Claus  climbed  up  to  the  roof  of  the  shed, 
where  he  lay,  and  turned  round  to  settle  himself  comforta- 
bly. The  wooden  shutters  did  not  cover  the  windows  at 
the  top,  and  he  could  look  straight  into  the  room.  There 
was  a  great  table,  with  the  cloth  laid,  and  wine  and  roast 
meat  and  a  glorious  fish  upon  it.  The  farmer's  wife  and 
the  clerk  were  seated  at  table,  and  nobody  besides.  She  was 
filling  his  glass,  and  he  was  digging  his  fork  into  the  fish, 
for  that  was  his  favorite  dish. 

"If  one  could  only  get  some,  too!"  thought  Little  Claus, 
as  he  stretched  out  his  head  toward  the  window.  Heavens! 
what  a  glorious  cake  he  saw  standing  there !  Yes,  certainly, 
that  was  a  feast. 

Now  he  heard  someone  riding  along  the  high  road.  It 
was  the  woman's  husband,  who  was  coming  home.  He  was 
a  good  man  enough,  but  he  had  the  strange  peculiarity  that 
he  could  never  bear  to  see  a  clerk.  If  a  clerk  appeared  be- 
fore his  eyes  he  became  quite  wild.  And  that  was  the  rea- 
son why  the  clerk  had  gone  to  the  wife  to  wish  her  good- 
day,  because  he  knew  that  her  husband  was  not  at  home; 
and  the  good  woman  therefore  put  the  best  fare  she  had  be- 
fore him.  But  when  they  heard  the  man  coming  they  were 
frightened,  and  the  woman  begged  the  clerk  to  creep  into 
a  great  empty  chest  which  stood  there;  and  he  did  so,  for 
he  knew  the  husband  could  not  bear  the  sight  of  a  clerk. 
The  woman  quickly  hid  all  the  excellent  meat  and  wine  in 


32  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

her  baking-oven;  for  if  the  man  had  seen  that,  he  would 
have  been  certain  to  ask  what  it  meant. 

"Ah,  yes!"  sighed  Little  Claus,  up  in  his  shed,  when  he 
saw  all  the  good  fare  put  away. 

"Is  there  anyone  up  there?"  asked  the  farmer;  and  he 
looked  up  at  Little  Claus.  "Who  are  you  lying  there? 
Better  come  with  me  into  the  room." 

And  Little  Claus  told  him  how  he  had  lost  his  way,  and 
asked  leave  to  stay  there  for  the  night. 

"Yes,  certainly,"  said  the  peasant;  "but  first  we  must 
have  something  to  live  on.'' 

The  woman  received  them  both  in  a  very  friendly  way, 
spread  the  cloth  on  a  long  table,  and  gave  them  a  great 
dish  of  porridge.  The  farmer  was  hungry,  and  ate  with  a 
good  appetite;  but  Little  Claus  could  not  help  thinking  of 
the  capital  roast  meat,  fish,  and  cake,  which  he  knew  were 
in  the  oven.  Under  the  table,  at  his  feet,  he  had  laid  the 
sack  with  the  horse's  hide  in  it;  for  we  know  that  he  had 
come  out  to  sell  it  in  the  town.  He  did  not  relish  the  por- 
ridge, so  he  trod  upon  the  sack,  and  the  dry  skin  crackled 
quite  loudly. 

"Why,  what  have  you  in  your  sack?"    asked  the  farmer. 

"Oh,  that's  a  magician,"  answered  Little  Claus.  "He 
says  we  are  not  to  eat  porridge,  for  he  has  conjured  the 
oven  full  of  roast  meat,  fish,  and  cake." 

"Wonderful!"  cried  the  farmer;  and  he  opened  the  oven 
in  a  hurry,  and  found  all  the  dainty  provisions  which  his 
wife  had  hidden  there,  but  which,  as  he  thought,  the  wizard 
had  conjured  forth.  The  woman  dared  not  say  anything, 
but  put  the  things  at  once  on  the  table ;  and  so  they  both  ate 
of  the  meat,  the  fish,  and  the  cake.  Now  Little  Clau.s  again 
trod  on  his  sack,  and  made  the  hide  creak. 

"What  does  he  say  now?"   said  the  farmer. 

"He  says,"  replied  Claus,  "that  he  has  conjured  three  bot- 
tles of  wine  for  us,  too,  and  that  they  are  standing  there  in 
the  corner  behind  the  oven." 

Now  the  woman  was  obliged  to  bring  out  the  wine  which 
she  had  hidden,  and  the  farmer  drank  it  and  became  very 
merry.  He  would  have  been  very  glad  to  see  such  a  con- 
juror as  Little  Claus  had  there  in  the  sack. 

"Can  he  conjure  the  demon  forth?"  asked  the  farmer. 
"I  should  like  to  see  him,  for  now  I  am  merry." 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  33 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Little  Claus;  "my  conjuror  can  do  any- 
thing that  I  ask  of  him — Can  you  not?"  he  added,  and  trod 
on  the  hide,  so  that  it  crackled.  ''He  says  'Yes.'  But  the 
demon  is  very  ugly  to  look  at;   we  had  better  not  see  him." 

"Oh,  I'm  not  at  all  afraid.    Pray,  what  will  he  look  like?" 

"Why,  he'll  look  the  very  image  of  a  clerk." 

"Ha!"  said  the  farmer,  "that  is  ugly!  You  must  know, 
I  can't  bear  the  sight  of  a  clerk.  But  it  doesn't  matter  now, 
for  I  know  that  he's  a  demon,  so  I  shall  easily  stand  it. 
Now  I  have  courage,  but  he  must  not  come  too  near  me." 

"Now  I  will  ask  my  conjuror,"  said  Little  Claus;  and 
he  trod  on  the  sack  and  held  his  ear  down. 

"What  does  he  say?" 

"He  says  you  may  go  and  open  the  chest  that  stands  in 
the  corner,  and  you  will  see  the  demon  crouching  in  it;  but 
you  must  hold  the  lid  so  that  he  doesn't  slip  out." 

"Will  you  help  me  to  hold  him?"  asked  the  farmer.  And 
he  went  to  the  chest  where  the  wife  had  hidden  the  real 
clerk,  who  sat  in  there  and  vs^as  very  much  afraid.  The 
farmer  opened  the  lid  a  little  way  and  peeped  in  under- 
neath it. 

"Hu!"  he  cried,  and  sprang  backward.  "Yes,  now  I've 
seen  him,  and  he  looked  exactly  like  our  clerk.  Oh,  that 
was  dreadful!"' 

Upon  this  they  must  drink.  So  they  sat  and  drank  until 
late  into  the  night. 

"You  must  sell  me  that  conjuror,"  said  the  farmer.  "Ask 
as  much  as  you  like  for  him;  I'll  give  you  a  whole  bushel 
of  money  directly." 

"No,  that  I  can't  do,"  said  Little  Claus ;  "only  think  how 
much  use  I  can  make  of  this  conjuror." 

"Oh,  I  should  so  much  like  to  have  him!"  cried  the 
farmer;  and  he  went  on  begging. 

"Well,"  said  Little  Claus,  at  last,  "as  you  have  been  so 
kind  as  to  give  me  shelter  for  the  night,  I  will  let  it  be  so. 
You  shall  have  the  conjuror  for  a  bushel  of  money;  but  I 
must  have  the  bushel  heaped  up." 

"That  you  shall  have,"  replied  the  farmer.  "But  you 
must  take  the  chest  yonder  away  with  you.  I  will  not  keep 
it  in  my  house  an  hour.  One  cannot  know — perhaps  he 
may  be  there  still." 

Little  Claus  gave  the  farmer  his  sack  with  the  dry  hide  in 

3 


34  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

it,  and  got  in  exchange  a  whole  bushel  of  money,  and  that 
heaped  up.  The  farmer  also  gave  him  a  big  truck,  on  which 
to  carry  oflf  his  money  and  chest. 

"Farewell!"  said  Little  Claus;  and  he  went  off  with  his 
money  and  the  big  chest,  in  which  the  clerk  was  still  sit- 
ting. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  wood  was  a  great  deep  river. 
The  water  rushed  along  so  rapidly  that  one  could  scarcely 
swim  against  the  stream.  A  fine  new  bridge  had  been  built 
over  it.  Little  Claus  stopped  on  the  center  of  the  bridge, 
and  said  quite  loud,  so  that  the  clerk  could  hear  it. 

"Ho,  what  shall  I  do  with  this  stupid  chest?  It's  as 
heavy  as  if  stones  were  in  it.  I  shall  only  get  tired  if  I  drag 
it  any  farther,  so  I'll  throw  it  into  the  river;  if  it  swims 
home  to  me,  well  and  good ;  and  if  it  does  not,  it  will  be  no 
great  matter." 

And  he  took  the  chest  with  one  hand,  and  lifted  it  up  a 
little,  as  if  he  intended  to  throw  it  into  the  river. 

"No!  let  be!"  cried  the  clerk  from  within  the  chest;  "let 
me  out  first!" 

"Hu!"  exclaimed  Little  Claus,  pretending  to  be  fright- 
ened, "he's  in  there  still!  I  must  make  haste  and  throw  him 
into  the  river,  that  he  may  be  drowned." 

"Oh,  no,  no!"  screamed  the  clerk.  "I'll  give  you  a  whole 
bushelful  of  money  if  you'll  let  me  go." 

"Why,  that's  another  thing!"  said  Little  Claus;  and  he 
opened  the  chest. 

The  clerk  crept  quickly  out  and  pushed  the  empty  chest 
into  the  water,  and  went  to  his  house,  where  Little  Claus 
received  a  whole  bushelful  of  money.  He  had  already  re- 
ceived one  from  the  farmer,  and  so  now  he  had  his  truck 
loaded  with  money. 

"See,  I've  been  well  paid  for  the  horse,"  he  said  to  him- 
self when  he  had  got  home  to  his  own  room,  and  was  emp- 
tying all  the  money  into  a  heap  in  the  middle  of  the  floor. 
"That  will  vex  Great  Claus  when  he  hears  how  rich  I  have 
grown  through  my  one  horse ;  but  I  won't  tell  him  about  it 
outright." 

So  he  sent  a  boy  to  Great  Claus  to  ask  for  a  bushel  meas- 
ure. 

"What  can  he  want  with  it?"  thought  Great  Claus.  And 
he  smeared  some  tar  underneath  the  measure  so  that  some 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  35 

part  of  whatever  was  measured  should  stick  to  it.  And 
thus  it  happened;  for  when  he  received  the  measure  back, 
there  were  three  new  eight-shilhng  pieces  adhering  thereto. 

"What's  this?"  cried  Great  Claus;  and  he  ran  off  at  once 
to  Little  Claus.    "Where  did  you  get  all  that  money  from?" 

"Oh,  that's  for  my  horse's  skin.  I  sold  it  yesterday  even- 
ing." 

"That's  really  being  well  paid,"  said  Great  Claus.  And  he 
ran  home  in  a  hurry,  took  an  ax,  and  killed  all  his  four 
horses;  then  he  flayed  them,  and  carried  off  their  skins  to 
the  town. 

"Hides!  hides!  who'll  buy  any  hides?"  he  cried  through 
the  streets. 

All  the  shoemakers  and  tanners  came  running,  and  asked 
how  much  he  wanted  for  them. 

"A  bushel  of  money  for  each!"   said  Great  Claus. 

"Are  you  mad?"  said  they.  "Do  you  think  we  have 
money  by  the  bushel?" 

"Hides!  hides!"  he  cried  again;  and  to  all  who  asked 
him  what  the  hides  would  cost,  he  replied,  "A  bushel  of 
money." 

"He  wants  to  make  fools  of  us,"  they  all  exclaimed.  And 
the  shoemakers  took  their  straps,  and  the  tanners  their 
aprons,  and  they  began  to  beat  Great  Claus. 

"Hides!  hides!"  they  called  after  him,  jeeringly.  "Yes, 
we'll  tan  your  hide  for  you  till  the  red  broth  runs  down. 
Out  of  the  town  with  him !"  And  Great  Claus  made  the  best 
haste  he  could,  for  he  had  never  yet  been  thrashed  as  he  was 
thrashed  now. 

"Well,"  said  he,  when  he  got  home,  "Little  Claus  shall 
pay  for  this.    I'll  kill  him  for  it." 

Now,  at  Little  Claus'  the  old  grandmother  had  died.  She 
had  been  very  harsh  and  unkind  to  him,  but  yet  he  was  very 
sorry,  and  took  the  dead  woman  and  laid  her  in  his  warm 
bed,  to  see  if  she  would  not  come  to  life  again.  There  he 
intended  she  should  remain  all  through  the  night,  and  he 
himself  would  sit  in  the  corner  and  sleep  on  a  chair,  as  he 
had  often  done  before.  As  he  sat  there,  in  the  night  the 
door  opened,  and  Great  Claus  came  in  with  his  ax.  He 
knew  where  Little  Claus'  bed  stood;  and,  going  straight  up 
to  it,  he  hit  the  old  grandmother  on  the  head,  thinking  she 
was  Little  Claus. 


36  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"D'ye  see,"  said  he,  "3^ou  shall  not  make  a  fool  of  me 
again."  And  then  he  went  home. 

"That's  a  bad  fellow,  that  man,"  said  Little  Claus.  "He 
wanted  to  kill  me.  It  was  a  good  thing  for  my  old  grand- 
mother that  she  was  dead  already.  He  would  have  taken 
her  hfe." 

And  he  dressed  his  grandmother  in  her  Sunday  clothes, 
borrowed  a  horse  from  his  neighbor,  harnessed  it  to  a  car, 
and  put  the  old  lady  on  the  back  seat,  so  that  she  could  not 
fall  out  when  he  drove.  And  so  they  trundled  through  the 
wood.  When  the  sun  rose  they  were  in  front  of  an  inn; 
there  Little  Claus  pulled  up,  and  went  in  to  have  some  re- 
freshment. 

The  host  had  very,  very  much  mioney ;  he  was  also  a  very 
good  man,  but  exceedingly  hot,  as  if  he  had  pepper  and  to- 
bacco in  him. 

"Good  morning,'"  said  he  to  Little  Claus.  "You've  put  on 
your  Sunday  clothes  early  to-day." 

"Yes,"  answered  Little  Claus;  "I'm  going  to  town  with 
my  old  grandmother;  she's  sitting  there  on  the  car  without. 
I  can't  bring  her  into  the  room.  Will  you  give  her  a  glass 
of  mead?  But  you  must  speak  very  loud,  for  she  can't  hear 
well." 

"Yes,  that  I'll  do,"  said  the  host.  And  he  poured  out  a 
great  glass  of  mead,  and  went  out  with  it  to  the  dead  grand- 
mother, who  had  been  placed  upright  in  the  carriage. 

"Here's  a  glass  of  mead  from  your  son,''  quoth  mine  host. 
But  the  dead  v»?oman  replied  not  a  word,  but  sat  quite  still. 
"Don't  you  hear?"  cried  the  host,  as  loud  as  he  could, 
"here  is  a  glass  of  mead  from  your  son!'' 

Once  more  he  called  out  the  same  thing,  but  as  she  per- 
sisted in  not  hearing  him,  he  became  angry  at  last,  and 
threw  the  glass  in  her  face,  so  that  the  mead  ran  down  over 
her  nose,  and  she  tumbled  backward  into  the  car,  for  she 
had  only  been  put  upright,  and  not  bound  fast. 

"Hallo!"  cried  Little  Claus,  running  out  at  the  door, 
and  seizing  the  host  by  the  breast;  "you've  killed  my  grand- 
mother now!     See,  there's  a  big  hole  in  her  forehead." 

"Oh,  here's  a  misfortune!''  cried  the  host,  wringing  his 
hands.  "That  all  comes  of  my  hot  temper.  Dear  Little 
Claus,  I'll  give  you  a  bushel  of  money,  and  have  your 
grandmother  buried  as  if  she  were  my  own;    only  keep 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  37 

quiet,  or  I  shall  have  my  head  cut  off,  and  that  would  be  so 
very  disagreeable!" 

So  Little  Claus  again  received  a  whole  bushel  of  money, 
and  the  host  buried  the  old  grandmother  as  if  she  had  been 
his  own.  And  when  Little  Claus  came  home  with  all  his 
money,  he  at  once  sent  his  boy  to  Great  Claus  to  ask  to  bor- 
row a  bushel  measure. 

"What's  that?"  said  Great  Claus.  .  "Have  I  not  killed 
him?  I  must  go  myself  and  see  to  this."  And  so  he  went 
over  himself  with  the  bushel  to  Little  Claus. 

"Now,  where  did  you  get  all  that  money  from?"  he 
asked;  and  he  opened  his  eyes  wide  when  he  saw  all  that 
had  been  brought  together. 

"You  killed  my  grandmother,  and  not  me,"  replied  Little 
Claus;  "and  I've  been  and  sold  her,  and  got  a  whole  bushel 
of  money  for  her.'' 

"That's  really  being  v\^ell  paid,"  said  Great  Claus;  and 
he  hastened  home,  took  an  ax,  and  killed  his  own  grand- 
mother directly.  Then  he  put  her  on  a  carriage,  and  drove 
off  to  the  town  with  her,  to  where  the  apothecary  lived,  and 
asked  him  if  he  would  buy  a  dead  person. 

"Who  is  it,  and  where  did  you  get  him  from?"  asked  the 
apothecary. 

"It's  my  grandmother,"  answered  Great  Claus.  "I've 
killed  her  to  get  a  bushel  of  money  for  her." 

"Heaven  save  us!"  cried  the  apothecary,  "you're  rav- 
ing! Don't  say  such  things,  or  you  may  lose  your  head.'' 
And  he  told  him  earnestly  what  a  bad  deed  this  was  that  he 
had  done,  and  what  a  bad  man  he  was,  and  that  he  must  be 
punished.  And  Great  Claus  was  so  frightened  that  he 
jumped  out  of  the  surgery  straight  into  his  carriage,  and 
whipped  the  horses,  and  drove  home.  But  the  apothecary 
and  all  the  people  thought  him  mad,  and  so  they  let  him 
drive  whither  he  would. 

"You  shall  pay  for  this!"  cried  Great  Claus,  when  he 
was  out  upon  the  high  road;  "yes,  yes,  you  shall  pay  me 
for  this.  Little  Claus!"  And  directly  he  got  home  he  took 
the  biggest  sack  he  could  find,  and  went  over  to  Little 
Claus,  and  said,  "Now,  you've  tricked  me  again!  First  I 
killed  my  horses,  and  then  my  old  grandmother!  That's  all 
your  fault,  but  you  shall  never  trick  me  any  more."  And 
he  seized  Little  Claus  round  the  body,  and  thrust  him  into 


38  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

the  sack,  and  took  him  upon  his  back,  and  called  out  to  him, 
"Now  I  shall  go  off  with  you  and  drown  you." 

It  was  a  long  way  that  he  had  to  travel  before  he  came 
to  the  river,  and  Little  Claus  was  not  too  light  to  carry. 
The  road  led  him  close  to  a  church;  the  organ  was  play- 
ing, and  the  people  were  singing  so  beautifully!  Then 
Great  Claus  put  down  his  sack,  with  Little  Claus  in  it,  close 
to  the  church  door,  and  thought  it  would  be  a  very  good 
thing  to  go  in  and  hear  a  psalm  before  he  went  farther;  for 
Little  Claus  could  not  get  out,  and  all  the  people  were  in 
church ;  and  so  he  went  in. 

"Ah,  yes,  yes!"  sighed  Little  Claus  in  the  sack.  And 
he  turned  and  twisted,  but  he  found  it  impossible  to  loosen 
the  cord.  Then  there  came  by  an  old  drover  v/ith  snow- 
white  hair,  and  a  great  staff  in  his  hand;  he  was  driving  a 
whole  herd  of  cows  and  oxen  before  him,  and  they  stumbled 
against  the  sack  in  which  Little  Claus  was  confined,  so  that 
it  was  overthrown. 

''Oh,  dear!"  sighed  Little  Claus,  "I  am  so  young  yet,  and 
am  to  go  to  heaven  directly !" 

"And  I,  poor  fellow,"  said  the  drover,  "am  so  old  already, 
and  can't  get  there  yet!" 

"Open  the  sack,"  cried  Little  Claus;  "creep  into  it  in- 
stead of  me,  and  you  will  get  to  heaven  directly." 

"With  all  my  heart,"  replied  the  drover;  and  he  untied 
the  sack,  out  of  which  Little  Claus  crept  forth  immediately. 

"But  will  you  look  after  the  cattle?"  said  the  old  man; 
and  he  crept  into  the  sack  at  once,  whereupon  Little  Claus 
tied  it  up,  and  went  his  way  with  all  the  cows  and  oxen. 

Soon  afterward  Great  Claus  came  out  of  the  church.  He 
took  the  sack  on  his  shoulders  again,  although  it  seemed 
to  him  as  if  the  sack  had  become  lighter;  for  the  old  drover 
was  only  half  as  heavy  as  Little  Claus. 

"How  light  he  is  to  carry  now!  Yes,  that  is  because  I 
have  heard  a  psalm." 

So  he  went  to  the  river,  which  was  deep  and  broad,  threw 
the  sack  with  the  old  drover  in  it  into  the  water,  and  called 
after  him,  thinking  that  it  was  Little  Claus,  "You  lie  there! 
Now  you  shan't  trick  me  any  more!" 

Then  he  went  home;  but  when  he  came  to  a  place  where 
there  was  a  cross  road,  he  met  Little  Claus  driving  all  his 
beasts. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  39 

"What's  this?"  cried  Great  Claus.  "Have  I  not  drowned 
you?" 

"Yes,''  repHed  Little  Claus,  "you  threw  me  into  the  river 
less  than  half  an  hour  ago." 

"But  wherever  did  you  get  all  those  fine  beasts  from?" 
asked  Great  Claus. 

"These  beasts  are  sea-cattle,"  replied  Little  Claus.  "I'll 
tell  you  the  whole  story — and  thank  you  for  drowning  me, 
for  now  I'm  at  the  top  of  the  tree.  I  am  really  rich !  How 
frightened  I  was  when  I  lay  huddled  in  the  sack,  and  the 
wind  whistled  about  my  ears  when  you  threw  me  down  from 
the  bridge  into  the  cold  water!  I  sank  to  the  bottom  imme- 
diately; but  I  did  not  knock  myself,  for  the  most  splendid 
soft  grass  grows  down  there.  Upon  that  I  fell;  and  imme- 
diately the  sack  was  opened,  and  the  loveliest  maiden,  with 
snow-white  garments  and  a  green  wreath  upon  her  wet 
hair,  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  said,  'Are  you  come,  Little 
Claus?  Here  you  have  some  cattle  to  begin  with.  A  mile 
farther  along  the  road  there  is  a  whole  herd  more,  which  I 
will  give  to  you.'  And  now  I  saw  that  the  river  formed  a 
great  highway  for  the  people  of  the  sea.  Down  in  its  bed 
they  walked  and  drove  directly  from  the  sea,  and  straight 
into  the  land,  to  where  the  river  ends.  There  it  was  so  beau- 
tifully full  of  flowers  and  of  the  freshest  grass;  the  fishes, 
which  swam  in  the  water,  shot  past  my  ears,  just  as  here 
the  birds  in  the  air.  What  pretty  people  there  were  there, 
and  what  fine  cattle  pasturing  on  mounds  and  in  ditches!" 

"But  why  did  you  come  up  again  to  us  directly?"  asked 
Great  Claus.  "I  should  not  have  done  that,  if  it  is  so  beauti- 
ful down  there.'' 

"Why,"  replied  Little  Claus,  "in  that  I  just  acted  with 
good  policy.  You  heard  me  tell  you  that  the  sea-maiden 
said,  'a  mile  farther  along  the  road — '  and  by  the  road  she 
meant  the  river,  for  she  can't  go  anywhere  else — 'there  is  a 
whole  herd  of  cattle  for  you.'  But  I  know  what  bends  the 
stream  makes — sometimes  this,  sometimes  that;  there's  a 
long  way  to  go  round;  no,  the  thing  can  be  managed  in  a 
shorter  Avay  by  coming  here  to  the  land,  and  driving  across 
the  fields  toward  the  river  again.  In  this  manner  I  save 
myself  almost  half  a  mile,  and  get  all  the  quicker  to  my  sea- 
cattle  1" 

"Oh,  you  are  a  fortunate  man!"   said  Great  Claus.    "Do 


40  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

you  think  I  should  get  some  sea-cattle  too  if  I  went  down  to 
the  bottom  of  the  river?" 

"Yes,  I  think  so,"  feplied  Little  Claus.  "But  I  cannot 
carry  you  in  the  sack  as  far  as  the  river;  you  are  too  heavy 
for  me!  But  if  you  will  go  there,  and  creep  into  the  sack 
yourself,  I  will  throw  you  in  with  a  great  deal  of  pleasure." 

"Thanks!"  said  Great  Claus;  "but  if  I  don't  get  any  sea- 
cattle  when  I  am  down  there,  I  shall  beat  you,  you  may  be 
sure." 

"Oh,  no;   don't  be  so  fierce!" 

And  so  they  went  together  to  the  river.  When  the 
beasts,  which  were  thirsty,  saw  the  stream,  they  ran  as  fast 
as  they  could  to  get  at  the  water. 

"See  how  they  hurry!"  cried  Little  Claus.  "They  are 
longing  to  get  back  to  the  bottom." 

"Yes,  but  help  me  first!"  said  Great  Claus,  "or  else  you 
shall  be  beaten." 

And  so  he  crept  into  the  great  sack,  which  had  been  laid 
across  the  back  of  one  of  the  oxen. 

"Put  a  stone  in,  for  I'm  afraid  I  shan't  sink  else,"  said 
Great  Claus. 

"That  can  be  done,"  replied  Little  Claus;  and  he  put  a 
big  stone  into  the  sack,  tied  the  rope  tightly,  and  pushed 
against  it.  Plump!  Down  went  Great  Claus  into  the  river, 
and  sank  at  once  to  the  bottom. 

"I'm  afraid  he  won't  find  the  cattle!"  said  Little  Claus; 
and  then  he  drove  homeward  with  what  he  had. 


THUMBELINA. 

There  was  once  a  v/oman  who  wished  for  a  very  little 
child;  but  she  did  not  know  where  she  could  procure  one. 
So  she  went  to  an  old  witch  and  said : 

"I  do  so  very  much  wish  for  a  little  child!  can  you  not  tell 
me  where  I  can  get  one?" 

"Oh!  that  could  easily  be  managed,"  said  the  witch. 
"There  you  have  a  barleycorn;  that  is  not  the  kind  which 
grows  in  the  countryman's  field,  and  which  the  chickens 
get  to  eat.  Put  that  into  a  flower-pot,  and  you  shall  see 
what  you  shall  see  " 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES.  41 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  woman;  and  she  gave  the  witch 
twelve  shilHngs,  for  that  is  what  it  cost. 

Then  she  went  home  and  planted  the  barleycorn,  and  im- 
mediately there  grew  up  a  great  handsome  flower,  which 
looked  like  a  tulip;  but  the  leaves  were  tightly  closed,  as 
though  it  were  still  a  bud. 

"That  is  a  beautiful  flower,"  said  the  woman;  and  she 
kissed  its  yellow  and  red  leaves.  But  just  as  she  kissed  it 
the  flower  opened  with  a  pop!  It  was  a  real  tulip,  as  one 
could  now  see;  but  in  the  middle  of  the  flower  there  sat 
upon  the  green  velvet  stamens  a  httle  maiden,  dehcate  and 
graceful  to  behold.  She  was  scarcely  half  a  thumb's  length 
in  height,  and,  therefore,  she  was  called  Thurnbelina. 

A  neat  polished  walnut-shell  served  Thumbelina  for  a 
cradle,  blue  violet-leaves  were  her  mattresses,  with  a  rose- 
leaf  for  a  coverlet.  Tliere  she  slept  at  night;  but  in  the 
day-time  she  played  upon  the  table,  where  the  woman  had 
put  a  plate  with  a  wreath  of  flowers  around  it,  whose  stalks 
stood  in  water;  on  the  water  swam  a  great  tulip-leaf,  and  on 
this  the  little  maiden  could  sit,  and  row  from  one  side  of 
the  plate  to  the  other,  with  two  white  horse-hairs  for  oars. 
That  looked  pretty  indeed!  She  could  also  sing,  and,  indeed, 
so  delicately  and  sweetly,  that  the  like  had  never  been  heard. 

Once  as  she  lay  at  night  in  her  pretty  bed,  there  camic  an 
old  Toad  creeping  through  the  window,  in  which  one  pane 
was  broken.  The  Toad  was  very  ugly,  big  and  damp;  it 
hopped  straight  down  upon  the  table,  where  Thumbelina 
lay  sleeping  under  the  rose-leaf. 

"That  would  be  a  handsome  wife  for  my  son,"  said  the 
Toad;  and  she  took  the  walnut-shell  in  which  Thumbelina 
lay  asleep,  and  hopped  with  it  through  the  window  down 
into  the  garden. 

There  ran  a  great  broad  brook;  but  the  margin  was 
swampy  and  soft,  and  here  the  Toad  dwelt  with  her  son. 
Ugh!  he  was  ugly,  and  looked  just  like  his  mother. 
"Croak!  croak;  brek-kek-kex!"  that  was  all  he  could  say 
when  he  saw  the  graceful  little  maiden  in  the  walnut-shell. 

"Don't  speak  so  loud,  or  she  will  awake,"  said  the  old 
Toad.  "She  might  run  away  from  us,  for  she  is  as  light  as 
a  bit  of  swan's-down.  We  will  put  her  out  in  the  brook 
upon  one  of  the  broad  water-lily  leaves.  That  vvill  be  just 
like  an  island  for  her,  she  is  so  small  and  light.    Then  she 


42  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

can't  get  away,  while  we  put  the  stateroom  under  the  marsh 
in  order,  where  you  are  to  Hve  and  keep  house  together." 

Out  in  the  brook  grew  many  water-HHes  with  broad  green 
leaves,  which  looked  as  if  they  were  floating  on  the  water. 
The  leaf  which  lay  farthest  out  was  also  the  greatest  of  all, 
and  to  that  the  old  Toad  swam  out  and  laid  the  walnut-shell 
upon  it  with  Thumbelina.  The  little  tiny  Thumbelina  woke 
early  in  the  morning,  and  when  she  saw  where  she  was  she 
began  to  cry  very  bitterly;  for  there  was  water  on  every  side 
of  the  great  green  leaf,  and  she  could  not  get  to  land  at  all. 
The  old  Toad  sat  down  in  the  marsh,  decking  out  her  room 
with  rushes  and  yellow  weed — it  was  to  be  made  very  pretty 
for  the  new  daughter-in-law;  then  she  swam  out,  with  her 
ugly  son,  to  the  leaf  on  which  Thumbelina  was.  They 
wanted  to  take  her  pretty  bed,  which  was  to  be  put  in  the 
bridal  chamber  before  she  went  in  there  herself.  The  old 
Toad  bowed  low  before  her  in  the  water,  and  said : 

"Here  is  my  son;  he  will  be  your  husband,  and  you  will 
live  splendidly  together  in  the  marsh." 

"Croak!  croak!  brek-kek-kex!''  was  all  the  son  could 
say. 

Then  they  took  the  delicate  little  bed,  and  swam  away 
with  it;  but  Thumbelina  sat  all  alone  upon  the  green  leaf 
and  wept,  for  she  did  not  like  to  live  at  the  nasty  Toad's, 
and  have  her  ugly  son  for  a  husband.  The  little  fishes 
swimming  in  the  water  below  had  both  seen  the  Toad,  and 
had  also  heard  what  she  said;  therefore  they  stretched  forth 
their  heads,  for  they  wanted  to  see  the  little  girl.  So  soon  as 
they  saw  her  they  considered  her  so  pretty  that  they  felt 
very  sorry  she  should  have  to  go  down  to  the  ugly  Toad. 
No,  that  must  never  be!  They  assembled  together  in  the 
water  around  the  green  stalk  which  held  the  leaf  on  which 
the  little  m^aiden  stood,  and  with  their  teeth  they  gnawed 
away  the  stalk,  and  so  the  leaf  swam  down  the  stream;  and 
away  went  Thumbelina  far  away,  where  the  Toad  could  not 
get   at  her. 

Thumbelina  sailed  by  many  cities,  and  the  little  birds 
which  sat  in  the  bushes  saw  her,  and  said,  "What  a  lovely 
little  girl!"  The  leaf  swam  away  from  them,  farther  and 
farther;   so  Thumbelina  traveled  out  of  the  country. 

A  graceful  little  white  Butterfly  always  fluttered  round 
her,  and  at  last  alighted  on  the  leaf.    Thumbelina  pleased 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  43 

him,  and  she  was  very  glad  of  this,  for  now  the  Toad  could 
not  reach  them;  and  it  was  so  beautiful  where  she  was 
floating  along — the  sun  shone  upon  the  water,  and  the 
water  glistened  like  the  most  splendid  gold.  She  took  her 
girdle  and  bound  one  end  of  it  round  the  Butterfly,  fastening 
the  other  end  of  the  ribbon  to  the  leaf.  The  leaf  now  glided 
onward  much  faster  and  Thumbelina,  too,  for  she  stood 
upon  the  leaf. 

There  came  a  big  Cockchafer  flying  up ;  and  he  saw  her, 
and  immediately  clasped  his  claws  round  her  slender  waist, 
and  flew  with  her  up  into  a  tree.  The  green  leaf  went  swim- 
ming down  the  brook,  and  the  Butterfly  with  it;  for  he  was 
fastened  to  the  leaf,  and  could  not  get  away  from  it. 

Mercy!  how  frightened  poor  little  Thumbelina  was  when 
the  Cockchafer  flew  with  her  up  into  the  tree!  But  espe- 
cially she  was  sorry  for  the  fine  white  Butterfly  whom  she 
had  bound  fast  to  the  leaf,  for,  if  he  could  not  free  himself 
from  it,  he  would  be  obliged  to  starve.  The  Cockchafer, 
however,  did  not  trouble  himself  at  all  about  this.  He 
seated  himself  with  her  upon  the  biggest  green  leaf  of  the 
tree,  gave  her  the  sweet  part  of  the  flowers  to  eat,  and  de- 
clared that  she  was  very  pretty,  though  she  did  not  in  the 
least  resemble  a  cockchafer.  Afterward  came  all  the  other 
Cockchafers  who  lived  in  the  tree  to  pay  a  visit;  they 
looked  at  Thumbelina,  and  said: 

''Why,  she  has  not  even  more  than  two  legs! — that  has 
a  wretched  appearance." 

"She  has  not  any  feelers!"  cried  another. 

"Her  waist  is  quite  slender — fie!  she  looks  like  a  human 
creature — how  ugly  she  is!"   said  all  the  lady  Cockchafers. 

And  yet  Thumbelina  was  very  pretty.  Even  the  Cock- 
chafer who  had  carried  her  off  saw  that;  but  when  all  the 
others  declared  she  was  ugly,  he  believed  it  at  last,  and 
would  not  have  her  at  all — ^she  might  go  whither  she  liked. 
Then  they  flew  down  with  her  from  the  tree,  and  set  her 
upon  a  daisy,  and  she  wept,  because  she  was  so  ugly  that  the 
Cockchafers  would  have  nothing  to  say  to  her;  and  yet  she 
was  the  loveliest  little  being  one  could  imagine,  and  as 
tender  and  delicate  as  a  rose-leaf. 

The  whole  summer  through  poor  Thumbelina  lived  quite 
alone  in  the  great  wood.  She  wove  herself  a  bed  out  of 
blades  of  grass,  and  hung  it  up  under  a  shamrock,  so  that 


44  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

she  was  protected  from  the  rain ;  she  plucked  the  honey  out 
of  the  flowers  for  food,  and  drank  of  the  dew  which  stood 
every  morning  upon  the  leaves.  Thus  summer  and  autumn 
passed  away;  hut  now  came  winter,  the  cold,  long  winter. 
All  the  birds  who  had  sung  so  sweetly  before  her  flew  away; 
trees  and  flowers  shed  their  leaves;  the  great  shamrock 
under  which  she  had  lived  shriveled  up,  and  there  remained 
nothing  of  it  but  a  yellow,  withered  stalk;  and  she  was 
dreadfully  cold,  for  her  clothes  were  torn,  and  she  herself 
was  so  frail  and  delicate — poor  little  Thumbelina!  she  was 
nearly  frozen.  It  began  to  snow,  and  every  snowflake  that 
fell  upon  her  was  like  a  whole  shovelful  thrown  upon  one 
of  us,  for  we  are  tall,  and  she  was  only  an  inch  long.  Then 
she  wrapped  herself  in  a  dry  leaf,  but  that  tore  in  the  mid- 
dle, and  would  not  warm  her — she  shivered  with  cold. 

Close  to  the  wood  into  which  she  had  now  come  lay  a 
great  corn-iield,  but  the  corn  was  gone  long  ago ;  only  the 
naked  dry  stubble  stood  up  out  of  the  frozen  ground. 
These  were  just  like  a  great  forest  for  her  to  wander 
through;  and,  oh!  how  she  trembled  with  cold.  Then  she 
arrived  at  the  door  of  the  Field  Mouse.  This  Mouse  had  a 
little  hole  under  the  stubble.  There  the  Field  Mouse  lived, 
warm  and  comfortable,  and  had  a  v/hole  roomful  of  corn — a 
glorious  kitchen  and  larder.  Poor  Thumbelina  stood  at 
the  door  just  like  a  poor  beggar  girl,  and  begged  for  a  lit- 
tle bit  of  a  barleycorn,  for  she  had  not  had  the  smallest  mor- 
sel to  eat  for  the  last  two  days. 

"You  poor  little  creature,"  said  the  Field  Mouse — for 
after  all  she  was  a  good  old  Field  Mouse — "come  into  my 
warm  room  and  dine  with  me." 

As  she  was  pleased  with  Thumbelina,  she  said,  "If  you 
like  you  may  stay  with  me  through  the  winter,  but  you 
must  keep  mv  room  clean  and  neat,  and  tell  me  little  stories, 
for  I  am  very  fond  of  those." 

And  Thum.belina  did  as  the  kind  old  Field  Mouse  bade 
her,  and  had  a  very  good  time  of  it. 

"Now  we  shall  soon  have  a  visitor,"  said  the  Field  Mouse. 
"My  neighbor  is  in  the  habit  of  visiting  me  once  a  week. 
He  is  even  better  oiT  than  I  am,  has  great  rooms,  and  beau- 
tiful black  velvety  fur.  If  you  could  only  get  him  for  your 
husband  you  would  be  well  provided  for.  You  must  tell 
him  the  prettiest  stories  you  know. 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  45 

But  Thumbelina  did  not  care  about  this;  she  thought 
nothing  of  the  neighbor,  for  he  was  a  Mole.  He  came  and 
paid  his  visits  in  his  black  velvet  coat.  The  Field  Mouse 
told  how  rich  and  how  learned  he  was,  and  how  his  house 
was  more  than  twenty  times  larger  than  hers;  that  he  had 
learning,  but  that  he  did  not  like  the  sun  and  beautiful 
flowers,  for  he  had  never  seen  them. 

Thumbelina  had  to  sing,  and  she  sang  "Cockchafer,  fly 
away,"  and  "When  the  parson  goes  afield."  Then  the  Mole 
fell  in  love  with  her,  because  of  her  delicious  voice;  but  he 
said  nothing,  for  he  was  a  sedate  Mole. 

A  short  time  before  he  had  dug  a  long  passage  through 
the  earth  from  his  own  house  to  theirs;  and  Thumbelina 
and  the  Field  Mouse  obtained  leave  to  walk  in  this  passage 
as  much  as  they  v/ished.  But  he  begged  them  not  to  be 
afraid  of  the  dead  bird  which  was  lying  in  the  passage.  It 
was  an  entire  bird,  with  wings  and  beak.  It  certainly  must 
have  died  only  a  short  time  before,  and  was  now  buried 
just  where  the  Mole  had  made  his  passage. 

The  Mole  took  a  bit  of  decayed  wood  in  his  mouth,  and 
it  glimmered  like  fire  in  the  dark;  then  he  went  first  and 
lighted  them  through  the  long,  dark  passage.  When  they 
came  where  the  dead  bird  lay,  the  Mole  thrust  up  his  broad 
nose  against  the  ceiling,  so  that  a  great  hole  was  made, 
through  which  the  daylight  could  shine  down.  In  the  mid- 
dle of  the  floor  lay  a  dead  Swallow,  his  beautiful  wings 
pressed  close  against  his  sides,  and  his  head  and  feet  drawn 
back  under  his  feathers;  the  poor  bird  had  certainly  died  of 
cold.  Thumbelina  was  very  sorry  for  this;  she  was  very 
fond  of  all  the  little  birds,  who  had  sung  and  twittered  so 
prettily  before  her  through  the  summ.er;  but  the  Mole  gave 
him  a  push  with  his  crooked  legs,  and  said,  "Now  he  doesn't 
pipe  any  more.  It  must  be  miserable  to  be  born  a  little  bird. 
I'm  thankful  that  none  of  my  children  can  be  that;  such  a 
bird  has  nothing  but  his  'tweet-tweet,'  and  has  to  starve  in 
the  winter!" 

"Yes,  you  may  well  say  that,  as  a  clever  man,"  observed 
the  Field  Mouse.  "Of  what  use  is  all  this  'tweet-tweet'  to  a 
bird  when  the  winter  comes?  He  must  starve  and  freeze. 
But  they  say  that's  very  aristocratic." 

Thumbelina  said  nothing;  but  when  the  two  others 
turned  their  backs  on  the  bird,  she  bent  down,  put  the 


46  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

feathers  aside  which  covered  his  head,  and  kissed  him  upon 
his  closed  eyes. 

"Perhaps  it  was  he  who  sang  so  prettily  before  me  in  the 
summer,"  she  thought.  "How  much  pleasure  he  gave  me, 
the  dear,  beautiful  bird!" 

The  Mole  now  closed  up  the  hole  through  which  the  day- 
light shone  in,  and  accompanied  the  ladies  homiC.  But  at 
night  Thumbelina  could  not  sleep  at  all;  so  she  got  up  out 
of  her  bed,  and  wove  a  large,  beautiful  carpet  of  hay,  and 
carried  it  and  spread  it  over  the  dead  bird,  and  laid  the  thin 
stamens  of  flowers,  soft  as  cotton,  and  which  she  had  found 
in  the  Field  Mouse's  room,  at  the  bird's  sides,  so  that  he 
might  lie  soft  in  the  ground. 

''Farewell,  you  pretty  little  bird!"  said  she.  "Farewell! 
and  thanks  to  you  for  your  beautiful  song  in  the  summer, 
when  all  the  trees  were  green,  and  the  sun  shone  down 
warmly  upon  us."  And  then  she  laid  the  bird's  head  upon 
her  heart.  But  the  bird  was  not  dead;  he  was  only  lying 
there  torpid  with  cold;  and  now  he  had  been  warmed,  and 
came  to  life  again. 

In  autumn  all  the  swallows  fly  away  to  warm  countries; 
but  if  one  happens  to  be  belated,  it  becomes  so  cold  that  it 
falls  down  as  if  dead,  and  lies  where  it  fell,  and  then  the  cold 
snow  covers  it. 

Thumbelina  fairly  trembled,  she  was  so  startled;  for  the 
bird  was  large,  very  large,  compared  with  her,  who  was  only 
an  inch  in  height.  But  she  took  courage,  laid  the  cotton 
closer  round  the  poor  bird,  and  brought  a  leaf  that  she  had 
used  as  her  own  coverlet,  and  laid  it  over  the  bird's  head. 

The  next  night  she  crept  out  to  him  again — and  now  he 
was  alive,  but  quite  weak ;  he  could  only  open  his  eyes  for  a 
moment  and  look  at  Thumbelina,  who  stood  before  him 
with  a  bit  of  decayed  wood  in  her  hand,  for  she  had  not  a 
lantern. 

"I  thank  you,  you  pretty  little  child,"  said  the  sick  Swal- 
low; 'T  have  been  famously  warmed.  Soon  I  shall  get  my 
strength  back  again,  and  I  shall  be  able  to  fly  about  in  the 
warm  sunshine." 

"Oh!"  she  said,  "it  is  so  cold  without.  It  snows  and 
freezes.    Stay  in  your  warm  bed,  and  I  will  nurse  you." 

Then  she  brought  the  Swallow  water  in  the  petal  of  a 
flower;   and  the  Swallow  drank,  and  told  her  how  he  had 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  47 

torn  one  of  his  wings  in  a  thorn-bush,  and  thus  he  had  not 
been  able  to  fly  so  fast  as  the  other  swallows,  which  had  sped 
away,  far  away,  to  the  warm  countries.  So  at  last  he  had 
fallen  to  the  ground;  but  he  could  remember  nothing  more, 
and  did  not  know  at  all  how  he  had  come  where  she  had 
found  him. 

The  whole  winter  the  Swallow  remained  there,  and 
Thumbelina  nursed  and  tended  him  heartily.  Neither  the 
Field  Mouse  nor  the  Mole  heard  anything  about  it,  for 
they  did  not  like  the  poor  Swallow.  So  soon  as  the  spring 
came,  and  the  sun  warmed  the  earth,  the  Swallow  bade 
Thumbelina  farewell,  and  she  opened  the  hole  which  the 
Mole  had  made  in  the  ceiling.  The  sun  shone  in  upon  them 
gloriously,  and  the  Swallow  asked  if  Thumbelina  would  go 
with  him;  she  could  sit  upon  his  back,  and  they  would  fly 
away  far  into  the  green  wood.  But  Thumbelina  knew  that 
the  old  Field  Mouse  would  be  grieved  if  she  left  her. 

"No,  I  cannot!"  said  Thumbelina. 

"Farewell,  farewell,  you  good,  pretty  girl!"  said  the 
Swallow;  and  he  flew  out  into  the  sunshine.  Thumbelina 
looked  after  him,  and  the  tears  came  into  her  eyes,  for  she 
was  heartily  and  sincerely  fond  of  the  poor  Swallow. 

"Tweet-weet!  tweet-weet!"  sang  the  birdj  and  flew  into 
the  green  forest.  Thumbelina  felt  very  sad.  She  did  not  get 
permission  to  go  out  into  the  warm  sunshine.  The  corn 
which  was  sown  in  the  field  over  the  house  of  the  Field 
Mouse  grew  up  high  into  the  air;  it  was  quite  a  thick  wood 
for  the  poor  girl,  who  was  only  an  inch  in  height. 

"You  are  betrothed  now,  Thumbelina,"  said  the  Field 
Mouse.  "My  neighbor  has  proposed  for  you.  What  great 
fortune  for  a  poor  child  like  you !  Now  you  must  work  at 
your  outfit,  woolen  and  linen  clothes  both;  for  you  must 
lack  nothing  when  you  have  become  the  Mole's  wife." 

Thumbelina  had  to  turn  the  spindle,  and  the  Mole  hired 
four  spiders  to  weave  for  her  day  and  night.  Every  evening 
the  Mole  paid  her  a  visit;  and  he  was  always  saying  that 
when  the  summer  should  draw  to  a  close,  the  sun  would  not 
shine  nearly  so  hot,  for  that  now  it  burned  the  earth  almost 
as  hard  as  a  stone.  Yes,  when  the  summer  should  have 
gone,  then  he  would  keep  his  wedding  day  with  Thumbelina. 
But  she  was  not  glad  at  all,  for  she  did  not  like  the  tiresome 
Mole.    Every  morning  when  the  sun  rose,  and  every  even- 


48  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

ing  when  it  went  down,  she  crept  out  at  the  door;  and  when 
the  wind  blew  the  corn-ears  apart,  so  that  she  could  see  the 
blue  sky,  she  thought  how  bright  and  beautiful  it  was  out 
here,  and  wished  heartily  to  see  her  dear  Swallow  again. 
But  the  Swallow  did  not  come  back;  he  had  doubtless  flown 
far  away,  in  the  fair  green  forest.  When  autumn  came  on, 
Thumbelina  had  all  her  outfit  ready. 

"In  four  weeks  you  shall  celebrate  your  wedding,"  said 
the  Field  Mouse  to  her. 

But  Thumbelina  wept,  and  declared  she  would  not  have 
the  tiresome  Mole. 

"Nonsense!"  said  the  Field  Mouse;  "don't  be  obstinate, 
or  I  will  bite  you  with  my  white  teeth.  He  is  a  very  fane 
man  whom  you  will  marry.  The  Queen  herself  has  not 
such  a  black  velvet  fur;  and  his  kitchen  and  cellar  are  full. 
Be  thankful  for  your  good  fortune." 

Now  the  wedding  was  to  be  held.  The  Mole  had  already 
come  to  fetch  Thumbelina;  she  was  to  live  with  him,  deep 
under  the  earth,  and  never  to  come  out  into  the  warm  sun- 
shine, for  that  he  did  not  like.  The  poor  little  thing  was 
very  sorrowful ;  she  was  now  to  say  farewell  to  the  glorious 
sun,  which  after  all,  she  had  been  allowed  by  the  Field 
Mouse  to  see  from  the  threshold  of  the  door. 

"Farewell,  thou  bright  sun!"  she  said,  and  stretched  out 
her  arms  toward  it,  and  walked  a  little  way  forth  from  the 
house  of  the  Field  Mouse,  for  now  the  corn  had  been 
reaped,  and  only  the  dry  stubble  stood  in  the  fields.  Fare- 
well!" she  repeated,  twining  her  arms  round  a  little  red 
flower  which  still  bloomed  there.  "Greet  the  little  Swallow 
from  me,  if  you  see  him  again." 

"Tweet-weet!  tweet-weet!"  a  voice  suddenly  sounded 
over  her  head.  She  looked  up;  it  was  the  little  Swallow, 
who  was  just  flying  by.  When  he  saw  Thumbelina  he  was 
very  glad;  and  Thumbelina  told  him  how  loth  she  was  to 
have  the  ugly  Mole  for  her  husband,  and  that  she  was  to 
live  deep  under  the  earth,  where  the  sun  never  shone.  And 
she  could  not  refrain  from  weeping. 

"The  cold  winter  is  coming  now,"  said  the  Swallow;  "I 
am.  goins:  to  flv  far  away  into  the  warm  countries.  Will  you 
come  with  me?  You  can  sit  upon  my  back,  then  we  shall 
fly  from  the  ugly  Mole  and  his  dark  room — away,  far  away, 
over  the  mountains  to  the  warm  countries,  where  the  sun 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  49 

shines  warmer  than  here,  where  it  is  always  summer,  and 
there  are  lovely  flowers.  Only  fly  with  me,  you  dear  little 
Thumbelina,  you  who  saved  my  life  when  I  lay  frozen  in 
the  dark  earthy  passage." 

"Yes,  I  will  go  with  you!"  said  Thumbelina;  and  she 
seated  herself  on  the  bird's  back,  with  her  feet  on  his  out- 
spread wing,  and  bound  her  girdle  fast  to  one  of  his  strong- 
est feathers;  then  the  Swallow  flew  up  into  the  air  over 
forest  and  over  sea,  high  up  over  the  great  mountains, 
where  the  snow  always  lies ;  and  Thumbelina  felt  cold  in  the 
bleak  air,  but  then  she  hid  under  the  bird's  warm  feathers, 
and  only  put  out  her  little  head  to  admire  all  the  beauties 
beneath  her. 

At  last  they  came  to  the  warm  countries.  There  the  sun 
shone  far  brighter  than  here;  the  sky  seemed  twice  as 
high;  in  ditches  and  on  the  hedges  grew  the  most  beautiful 
blue  and  green  grapes;  lemons  and  oranges  hung  in  the 
woods;  the  air  was  fragrant  with  myrtles  and  balsams,  and 
on  the  roads  the  loveliest  children  ran  about,  playing  with 
gay  butterflies.  But  the  Swallow  flew  still  farther,  and  it  be- 
came more  and  more  beautiful.  Under  the  more  glorious 
green  trees  by  the  blue  lake  stood  a  palace  of  dazzling  white 
m.arble,  from  the  olden  time.  Vines  clustered  around  lofty 
pillars;  at  the  top  were  many  swallows'  nests,  and  in  one 
of  these  the  Swallow  lived  who  carried  Thumbelina. 

"That  is  my  house,"  said  the  Swallow;  "but  it  is  not  right 
that  you  should  live  there.  It  is  not  yet  properly  arranged 
by  a  great  deal,  and  you  will  not  be  content  with  it.  Select 
for  yourself  one  of  the  splendid  flowers  which  grow  down 
yonder,  then  I  will  put  you  into  it,  and  you  shall  have 
everything  as  nice  as  you  can  wish." 

"That  is  capital,"  cried  she,  and  clapped  her  little  hands. 

A  great  marble  pillar  lay  there,  which  had  fallen  to  the 
ground  and  had  been  broken  into  three  pieces;  but  be- 
tween these  pieces  grew  the  most  beautiful  great  white 
flowers.  The  Swallow  flew  down  with  Thumbelina,  and  set 
her  upon  one  of  the  broad  leaves.  But  what  was  the  little 
maid's  surprise?  There  sat  a  little  man  in  the  midst  of  the 
flower,  as  white  and  transparent  as  if  he  had  been  made  of 
glass ;  he  wore  the  neatest  of  gold  crowns  on  his  head,  and 
the  brightest  wings  on  his  shoulders;  he  himself  was  not 
bigger  than  Thumbelina.    He  was  the  Angel  of  the  flower. 

4 


50  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

In  each  of  the  flowers  dwelt  such  a  Httle  man  or  woman, 
but  this  one  was  King  over  them  all. 

"Heavens!  how  beautiful  he  is!"  whispered  Thumbelina 
to  the  Swallow. 

The  little  Prince  was  very  much  frightened  at  the  Swal- 
low, for  it  was  quite  a  gigantic  bird  to  him,  who  was  so 
small.  But  when  he  saw  Thumbelina,  he  became  very  glad; 
she  was  the  prettiest  maiden  he  had  ever  seen.  Therefore 
he  took  off  his  golden  crown,  and  put  it  on  her  head,  asked 
her  name,  and  if  she  would  be  his  wife,  and  then  she  should 
be  Queen  of  all  the  flowers.  Now  this  was  truly  a  diiiferent 
kind  of  man  to  the  son  of  the  Toad,  and  the  Mole  with  the 
black  velvet  fur.  She  therefore  said  "Yes"  to  the  charming 
Prince.  And  out  of  every  flower  came  a  lady  or  lord,  so 
pretty  to  behold  that  it  was  a  delight;  each  one  brought 
Thumbelina  a  present;  but  the  best  gift  was  a  pair  of  beauti- 
ful wings  which  had  belonged  to  a  great  white  fly;  these 
were  fastened  to  Thumbelina's  back,  and  now  she  could  fly 
from  flower  to  flower.  Then  there  w^as  much  rejoicing;  and 
the  little  Swallow  sat  above  them  in  the  nest,  and  was  to 
sing  the  marriage  song,  which  he  accordingly  did  as  well 
as  he  could;  but  yet  in  his  heart  he  was  sad,  for  he  was  so 
fond,  Oh!  so  fond  of  Thumbelina,  and  would  have  liked 
never  to  part  from  her. 

"You  should  not  be  called  Thumbelina,"  said  the  Flower 
Angel  to  her;  "that  is  an  ugly  name,  and  you  are  too  fair 
for  it — we  will  call  you  Maia." 


THE  GOLOSHES  OF  FORTUNE. 

I. 

A  BEGINNING. 

In  a  house  in  Copenhagen,  not  far  from  the  King's  New 
Market,  a  companv — a  verv  large  company — had  assem- 
bled, having  received  invitations  to  an  evening  party  there. 
One-half  of  the  companv  had  alreadv  sat  at  the  card-tables, 
the  other  half  awaited  the  result  of  the  hostess'  question, 
"What  shall  we  do  now?"    They  had  progressed  so  far,  and 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  51 

the  entertainment  began  to  show  some  degree  of  animation. 
Among  other  subjects  the  conversation  turned  upon  the 
Middle  Ages.  Some  considered  that  period  much  more  in- 
teresting than  our  own  time;  yes,  Councilor  Knap  defended 
this  view  so  zealously  that  the  lady  of  the  house  went  over 
at  once  to  his  side;  and  both  loudly  exclaimed  against  Oer- 
sted's treatise  in  the  Almanac  on  old  and  modern  times,  in 
which  the  chief  advantage  is  given  to  our  own  day.  The 
councilor  considered  the  times  of  the  Danish  King  Hans 
as  the  noblest  and  happiest  age. 

While  the  conversation  takes  this  turn,  only  interrupted 
for  a  moment  by  the  arrival  of  a  newspaper,  which  con- 
tained nothing  worth  reading,  we  will  betake  ourselves  to 
the  ante-chamber,  where  the  cloaks,  sticks,  and  goloshes 
had  found  a  place.  Here  sat  two  maids — an  old  one  and  a 
young  one.  One  would  have  thought  they  had  come  to 
escort  their  mistresses  home;  but,  on  looking  at  them  more 
closely,  the  observer  could  see  that  they  were  not  ordinary 
servants;  their  shapes  were  too  graceful  for  that,  their 
complexions  too  delicate,  and  the  cut  of  their  dresses  too 
uncommon.  They  were  two  fairies.  The  younger  was  not 
Fortune,  but  lady's-maid  to  one  of  her  ladies  of  the  bed- 
chamber, who  carry  about  the  more  trifling  gifts  of  Fortune. 
The  elder  one  looked  somewhat  more  gloomy — she  was 
Care,  who  always  goes  herself  in  her  owii  exalted  person  to 
perform  her  business,  for  thus  she  knows  that  it  is  well 
done. 

They  were  telling  each  other  where  they  had  been  that 
day.  The  messenger  of  Fortune  had  only  transacted  a  few 
unimportant  affairs,  as,  for  instance,  she  had  preserved  a 
new  bonnet  from  a  shower  of  rain,  had  procured  an  honest 
man  a  bow  from  a  titled  Nobody,  and  so  on;  but  what  she 
had  still  to  relate  was  something  quite  extraordinary. 

"I  can  likewise  tell,"  she  said,  "that  to-day  is  my  birth- 
day; and  in  honor  of  it  a  pair  of  goloshes  has  been  en- 
trusted to  me,  which  I  am  to  bring  to  the  human  race. 
These  goloshes  have  the  property  that  everyone  who  puts 
them  on  is  at  once  transported  to  the  time  and  place  in 
which  he  likes  best  to  be — every  wish  in  reference  to  time, 
place,  and  circumstance  is  at  once  fulfilled;  and  so  for  once 
man  can  be  happy  here  below!" 

-'Believe  me,''  said  Care,  "he  will  be  very  unhappy,  and 


52  ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES. 

will  bless  the  moment  when  he  can  get  rid  of  the  goloshes 
again." 

"What  are  you  thinking  of?"  retorted  the  other.  "Now 
I  shall  put  them  at  the  door.  Somebody  will  take  them  by 
mistake,  and  become  the  happy  one." 

You  see,  this  was  the  dialogue  they  held. 


II. 
WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  THE  COUNCILOR. 

It  was  late.  Councilor  Knap,  lost  in  contemplation  of  the 
times  of  King  Hans,  wished  to  get  home;  and  fate  willed 
that  instead  of  his  own  goloshes  he  should  put  on  those  of 
Fortune,  and  thus  went  out  into  East  Street.  But  by  the 
power  of  the  goloshes  he  had  been  put  back  three  hundred 
years — into  the  days  of  King  Hans ;  and  therefore  he  put 
his  foot  into  the  mud  and  mire  in  the  street,  because  in  those 
days  there  was  not  any  pavement. 

"Why,  this  is  horrible — how  dirty  it  is  here!"  said  the 
councilor.  "The  good  pavement  is  gone,  and  all  the  lamps 
are  put  out." 

The  moon  did  not  yet  stand  high  enough  to  give  much 
light,  and  the  air  was  tolerably  thick,  so  that  all  objects 
seemed  to  melt  together  in  the  darkness.  At  the  next  cor- 
ner a  lamp  hung  before  a  picture  of  the  Madonna,  but  the 
light  it  gave  was  as  good  as  none;  he  only  noticed  it  when 
he  stood  just  under  it,  and  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  painted 
figure. 

"This  is  probably  a  museum  of  art,"  thought  he,  "where 
they  have  forgotten  to  take  down  the  sign." 

A  couple  of  men  in  the  costume  of  those  past  days  went 
by  him. 

"How  they  look!''  he  said.  "They  must  come  from  a 
masquerade." 

Suddenly  there  was  a  sound  of  drums  and  fifes,  and 
torches  gleamed  brightly.  The  councilor  started.  And 
now  he  saw  a  strange  procession  go  past.  First  came  a 
whole  troop  of  drummers,  beating  their  instruments  very 
dexterously;  they  were  followed  by  men-at-arms,  with 
longbows  and  crossbows.    The  chief  man  in  the  procession 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  53 

was  a  clerical  lord.  The  astonished  councilor  asked  what 
was  the  meaning  of  this,  and  who  the  man  might  be. 

"That  is  the  Bisliop  of  Zealand." 

"What  in  the  world  has  come  to  the  bishop!"  said  the 
councilor,  with  a  sigh,  shaking  his  head,  "This  could  not 
possibly  be  the  bishop !" 

Ruminating  on  this,  and  without  looking  to  the  right  or 
to  the  left,  the  councilor  went  through  the  East  Street,  and 
over  the  Highbridge  Place.  The  bridge  which  led  to  the 
Palace  Square  was  not  to  be  found;  he  perceived  the  shore 
of  a  shallow  water  and  at  length  encountered  two  people, 
who  sat  in  a  boat, 

"Do  you  wish  to  be  ferried  over  to  the  Holm,  sir?"  they 
asked. 

"To  ■  the  Holm !"  repeated  the  councilor,  who  did  not 
know,  you  see,  in  what  period  he  was.  'T  want  to  go  to 
Christian's  Haven  and  to  Little  Turf  Street.'' 

The  men  stared  at  him. 

"Pray  tell  me  where  the  bridge  is?"  said  he.  "It  is 
shameful  that  no  lanterns  are  lighted  here;  and  it  is  as 
muddy,  too,  as  if  one  were  walking  in  a  marsh."  But  the 
longer  he  talked  with  the  boatmen  the  less  could  he  under- 
stand them.  "I  don't  understand  your  Bornhelm  talk,"  he 
at  last  cried,  angrily,  and  turned  his  back  upon  them.  He 
could  not  find  the  bridge,  nor  was  there  any  paling.  "It  is 
quite  scandalous  how  things  look  here!"  he  said — never 
had  he  thought  his  own  times  so  miserable  as  this  evening. 
"I  think  it  will  be  best  if  I  take  a  cab,"  thought  he.  But 
v^'here  were  the  cabs? — not  one  v/as  to  be  seen.  "I  shall 
have  to  go  back  to  the  King's  New  Market,  where  there  are 
many  carriages  standing;  otherwise  I  shall  never  get  as  far 
as  Christian's  Haven.'' 

Now  he  went  toward  East  Street,  and  had  almost  gone 
through  it  when  the  moon  burst  forth. 

"What  in  the  world  have  they  been  erecting  here?"  he 
exclaimed,  when  he  saw  the  East  Gate,  which  in  those  days 
stood  at  the  end  of  East  Street. 

In  the  meantime,  however,  he  found  a  passage  open,  and 
through  this  he  came  out  upon  our  Nevv^  Market;  but  it  was 
a  broad  meadow.  Single  bushes  stood  forth,  and  across  the 


54  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

meadow  ran  a  great  canal  or  stream.  A  few  miserable 
wooden  booths  for  Dutch  skippers  were  erected  on  the  op- 
posite shore. 

"Either  I  behold  a  Fata  Aforgana,  or  I  am  tipsy,"  sighed 
the  councilor.    "What  can  that  be?    What  can  that  be?" 

He  turned  back,  in  the  full  persuasion  that  he  must  be  ill. 
In  walking  up  the  street  he  looked  more  closely  at  the 
houses;  most  of  them  were  built  of  laths,  and  many  were 
only  thatched  with  straw. 

"No,  I  don't  feel  well  at  all!"  he  lamented.  "And  yet  I 
only  drank  one  glass  of  punch!  But  I  cannot  stand  that; 
and  besides,  it  was  very  foolish  to  give  us  punch  and  warm 
salmon.  I  shall  mention  that  to  our  hostess — the  agent's 
lady.  Suppose  I  go  back  and  say  how  I  feel?  But  that 
looks  ridiculous,  and  it  is  a  question  if  they  will  be  up  still." 

He  looked  for  the  house,  but  could  not  find  it. 

"That  is  dreadful!"  he  cried;  "I  don't  know  East  Street 
again.  Not  one  shop  is  to  be  seen ;  old,  miserable,  tumble- 
down huts  are  all  I  see,  as  if  I  were  at  Roeskilde  or  Ring- 
stedt.  Oh,  I  am  ill!  It's  no  use  to  make  ceremony.  But 
where  in  all  the  world  is  the  agent's  house?  It  is  no  longer 
the  same;  but  within  there  are  people  up  still.  I  certainly 
must  be  ill !" 

He  now  reached  a  half-open  door,  where  the  light  shone 
through  a  chink.  It  was  a  tavern  of  that  date — a  kind  of 
beer-house.  The  room  had  the  appearance  of  a  Dutch 
wine-shop ;  a  number  of  people,  consisting  of  seamen,  citi- 
zens of  Copenhagen,  and  a  few  scholars,  sat  in  deep  conver- 
sation over  their  jugs,  and  paid  little  attention  to  the  new- 
comer. 

'T  beg  pardon,"  said  the  councilor  to  the  hostess,  "but  I 
feel  very  unwell ;  would  you  let  them  get  me  a  fly  to  go  to 
Christian's  Haven?" 

The  woman  looked  at  him  and  shook  her  head;  then  she 
spoke  to  him  in  German. 

The  councilor  now  supposed  that  she  did  not  understand 
Danish,  so  he  repeated  his  wish  in  the  German  language. 
This,  and  his  costume,  convinced  the  woman  that  he  was  a 
foreigner.  She  soon  understood  that  he  felt  unwell,  and 
therefore  brought  him  a  jug  of  water.  It  certainly  tasted  a 
little  of  sea-water,  though  it  had  been  taken  from  the  spring 
outside. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  55 

The  councilor  leaned  his  head  upon  his  hand,  drew  a 
deep  breath,  and  thought  of  all  the  strange  things  that  were 
happening  about  him. 

"Is  that  to-day's  number  of  the  Day?"  he  said,  quite 
mechanically,  for  he  saw  the  woman  was  putting  away  a 
large  sheet  of  paper. 

She  did  not  understand  what  he  meant,  but  handed  him 
the  leaf;  it  was  a  woodcut  representing  a  strange  appear- 
ance in  the  air  which  had  been  seen  in  the  city  of  Cologne. 

''That  is  very  old,"  said  the  councilor,  who  became  quite 
cheerful  at  sight  of  this  antiquity.  "How  did  you  come  by 
this  strange  leaf?  This  is  very  interesting,  although  the 
whole  thing  is  a  fable.  Nowadays  these  appearances  are 
explained  to  be  northern  lights  that  have  been  seen;  prob- 
ably they  arise  from  electricity." 

Those  who  sat  nearest  to  him  and  heard  his  speech  looked 
at  him  in  surprise,  and  one  of  them  rose,  took  off  his  hat 
respectfully,  and  said,  with  a  very  grave  face: 

"You  must  certainly  be  a  very  learned  man,  sir!" 

"Oh,  no!"  replied  the  councilor;  "I  can  only  say  a  word 
or  two  about  things  one  ought  to  understand." 

^'Modestia  is  a  beautiful  virtue,"  said  the  man.  "More- 
over, I  must  say  to  your  speech,  'mihi  secus  videtur;'  yet 
I  will  gladly  suspend  my  Judiciimi." 

"May  I  ask  with  whova  I  have  the  pleasure  of  speaking?'' 
asked  the  councilor. 

"I  am  a  bachelor  of  theology,"  replied  the  man. 

This  answer  sufficed  for  the  councilor;  the  title  corre- 
sponded with  the  garb. 

"Certainly,"  he  thought,  "this  must  be  an  old  village 
schoolmaster,  a  queer  character,  such  as  one  finds  some- 
times over  in  Jutland." 

"This  is  certainly  not  a  ^ocus  docendi,"  began  the  man; 
"but  I  beg  you  to  take  the  trouble  to  speaK.  You  are 
doubtless  well  read  in  the  ancients?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  replied  the  councilor.  ''I  am  fond  of  reading 
useful  old  books;  and  am  fond  of  the  modern  ones  too,  with 
the  exception  of  the  'Every-day  Stories,'  of  which  we  have 
enough,  in  all  conscience.'' 

"Every-day  Stories?"  said  the  bachelor,  inquiringly. 

"Yes,  I  mean  the  new  romances  we  have  now." 

"Oh!"  said  the  man,  with  a  smile,  "they  are  very  witty, 


56  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

and  are  much  read  at  court.  The  King  is  especially  partial 
to  the  romances  by  Messieurs  Iffven  and  Gaudian,  which 
talks  about  King  Arthur  and  his  knights  of  the  Round  Ta- 
ble.    He  has  jested  about  it  with  his  noble  lords." 

"That  I  certainly  have  not  yet  read,"  said  the  councilor; 
"that  must  be  quite  a  new  book  published  by  Heiberg." 

"No,"  retorted  the  man,  "it  is  not  published  by  Heiberg, 
but  by  Godfrey  von  Gehmen.""^ 

"Indeed!  is  he  the  author?"  asked  the  councilor.  "That 
is  a  very  old  name :  was  not  that  the  name  of  about  the  first 
printer  who  appeared  in  Denmark?" 

"Why,  he  is  our  first  printer,"  replied  the  man. 

So  far  it  had  gone  well.  But  now  one  of  the  men  began 
to  speak  of  a  pestilence  which  he  said  had  been  raging  a 
few  years  ago;  he  meant  the  plague  of  1484.  The  councilor 
supposed  he  meant  the  cholera,  and  so  the  conversation 
went  on  tolerably.  The  Freebooters'  War  of  1490  w^as  so 
recent  that  it  could  not  escape  mention.  The  English  pi- 
rates had  taken  ships  from  the  very  wharves,  said  the  mian; 
and  the  councilor,  who  was  well  acquainted  with  the  events 
of  1 801,  joined  in  manfully  against  the  English.  The  rest 
of  the  talk,  however,  did  not  pass  over  so  well;  every  mo- 
ment there  was  a  contradiction.  The  good  bachelor  was 
terribly  ignorant,  and  the  simplest  assertion  of  the  councilor 
seemed  too  bold  or  too  fantastic.  They  looked  at  each 
other,  and  when  it  became  too  bad,  the  bachelor  spoke 
Latin,  in  the  hope  that  he  would  be  better  understood,  but 
it  was  of  no  use. 

"How  are  you  now?"  asked  the  hostess,  and  she  plucked 
the  councilor  by  the  sleeve. 

Now  his  recollection  came  back;  in  the  course  of  the 
conversation  he  had  forgotten  everything  that  had  hap- 
pened. 

"Good  Heavens!  where  am  I?"  he  said,  and  he  felt  dizzy 
when  he  thought  of  it. 

"We'll  drink  claret,  mead,  and  Bremen  beer,"  cried  one  of 
the  guests,  "and  you  shall  drink  with  us." 

Two  girls  came  in.  One  of  them  had  on  a  cap  of  two 
colors.  They  poured  out  drink  and  bowed;  the  councilor 
felt  a  cold  shudder  running  all  down  his  back.     "What's 

*  The  first  printer  and  publisher  in  Denmark  under  King  Hans. 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  57 

that?  what's  that?"  he  cried;  but  he  was  obhged  to  drink 
with  them.  They  took  possession  of  the  good  man  quite 
pohtely.  He  was  in  despair,  and  when  one  said  that  he  was 
tipsy  he  felt  not  the  slightest  doubt  regarding  the  truth  of 
the  statement,  and  only  begged  them  to  procure  him  a 
droschky.     Now  they  thought  he  was  speaking  Muscovite. 

Never  had  he  been  in  such  rude,  vulgar  company. 

"One  would  think  the  country  was  falling  back  into  heath- 
enism,'' was  his  reflection.  "This  is  the  most  terrible  mo- 
ment of  my  life." 

But  at  the  same  time  the  idea  occurred  to  him  to  bend 
down  under  the  table,  and  then  to  creep  to  the  door.  He 
did  so;  but  just  as  he  had  reached  the  entry,  the  others  dis- 
covered his  intention.  They  seized  him  by  the  feet,  and 
now  the  goloshes,  to  his  great  good  fortune,  came  ofif,  and 
— the  whole  enchantment  vanished. 

The  councilor  saw  quite  plainly,  in  front  of  him,  a  lamp 
burning,  and  behind  it  a  great  building;  everything  looked 
familiar  and  splendid.  It  was  East  Street,  as  we  know  it 
now.  He  lay  with  his  legs  turned  toward  a  porch,  and  op- 
posite to  him  sat  the  watchman  asleep. 

"Good  Heavens!  have  I  been  lying  here  in  the  street 
dreaming?"  he  exclaimed.  "Yes,  this  is  East  Street,  sure 
enough!  how  splendidly  bright  and  gay!  It  is  terrible 
what  an  effect  that  one  glass  of  punch  must  have  had  on 
me!" 

Two  minutes  afterward  he  was  sitting  in  a  fly,  which 
drove  him  out  to  Christian's  Haven.  He  thought  of  the 
terror  and  anxiety  he  had  undergone,  and  praised  from  his 
heart  the  happy  present,  our  own  time,  which,  with  all  its 
shortcomings,  was  far  better  than  the  period  in  which  he 
had  been  placed  a  short  time  before. 

HI. 

THE  WATCHMAN'S  ADVENTURES. 

"On  my  word,  yonder  lies  a  pair  of  goloshes!"  said  the 
watchman.  "They  must  certainly  belong  to  the  lieutenant 
who  lives  upstairs.     They  are  lying  close  to  the  door." 

The  honest  m.an  would  gladly  have  rung  the  bell  and  de- 
livered them,  for  upstairs  there  was  a  light  still  burning; 

r 


LIBRARY 

OF 

WASHINGTON 

UNIVERSITY 
ST.  LOUS         t-y.o. 


58  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

but  he  did  not  wish  to  disturb  the  other  people  in  the  House, 
and  so  he  let  it  alone. 

"It  must  be  very  warm  to  have  a  pair  of  such  things  on," 
said  he.  "How  nice  and  soft  the  leather  is!"  They  fitted 
his  feet  very  well.  "How  droll  it  is  in  the  world!  Now,  he 
might  lie  down  in  his  warm  bed,  and  yet  he  does  not!  There 
he  is  pacing  up  and  down  the  room.  He  is  a  happy  man! 
He  has  neither  wife  nor  children,  and  every  evening  he  is 
at  a  party.  Oh,  I  wish  I  were  he,  then  I  should  be  a  happy 
man!" 

As  he  uttered  this  wish,  the  goloshes  he  had  put  on  pro- 
duced their  effect,  and  the  watchman  v/as  transported  into 
the  body  and  being  of  the  lieutenant.  Then  he  stood  up  in 
the  room,  and  held  a  little  pink  paper  in  his  fingers,  on 
which  was  a  poem,  a  poem  written  by  the  lieutenant  him- 
self. For  who  is  there  who  has  not  once  in  his  life  had  a 
poetic  moment?  and  at  such  a  moment,  if  one  writes  down 
one's  thoughts,  there  is  poetry. 

Yes,  people  write  poetr}'-  when  they  are  in  love;  but  a 
prudent  man  does  not  print  such  poems.  The  lieutenant 
was  in  love — and  poor — that's  a  triangle,  or,  so  to  speak,  the 
half  of  a  broken  square  of  happiness.  The  lieutenant  felt 
that  very  keenly,  and  so  he  laid  his  head  against  the  win- 
dow-frame and  sighed  a  deep  sigh. 

"The  poor  watchman  in  the  street  yonder  is  far  happier 
than  I.  He  does  not  know  what  I  call  want.  He  has  a 
home,  a  wife,  and  children,  who  weep  at  his  sorrow  and  re- 
joice at  his  joy.  Oh!  I  should  be  happier  than  I  am,  could 
I  change  my  being  for  his,  and  pass  through  life  with  his 
humble  desires  and  hopes.     Yes,  he  is  happier  than  I !" 

In  that  same  moment  the  watchman  became  a  watchman 
again;  for  through  the  power  of  the  goloshes  of  Fortune  he 
had  assumed  the  personality  of  the  lieutenant;  but  then  we 
know  he  felt  far  less  content,  and  preferred  to  be  just  what 
he  had  despised  a  short  time  before.  So  the  watchman  be- 
came a  watchman  again. 

"That  was  an  ugly  dream,"  said  he,  "but  droll  enough. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  I  was  the  lieutenant  up  yonder,  and 
that  it  was  not  pleasant  at  all.  I  w^as  without  the  wife,  and 
the  boys,  who  are  now  ready  to  half  stifle  me  with  kisses." 

He  sat  down  again  and  nodded.     The  dream  would  not 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  59 

go  quite  out  of  his  thoughts.  He  had  the  goloshes  still  on 
his  feet.     A  falling  star  glided  down  along  the  horizon. 

"There  went  one,"  said  he,  "but  for  all  that,  there  are 
enough  left.  I  should  like  to  look  at  those  things  a  little 
nearer,  especially  the  moon,  for  that  won't  vanish  under 
one's  hands.  The  student  for  whom  my  wife  washes  says 
that  when  we  die  we  fly  from  one  star  to  another.  That's 
not  true,  but  it  would  be  very  nice.  If  I  could  only  make  a 
little  spring  up  there,  then  my  body  might  lie  here  on  the 
stairs  for  all  I  care." 

Now  there  are  certain  assertions  we  should  be  very  cau- 
tious of  making  in  this  world,  but  doubly  careful  when  we 
have  goloshes  of  Fortune  on  our  feet.  Just  hear  what  hap- 
pened to  the  watchman. 

So  far  as  we  are  concerned,  we  all  understand  the  rapidity 
of  dispatch  by  steam ;  we  have  tried  it  either  in  railways,  or 
in  steamers  across  the  sea.  But  this  speed  is  as  the  crawling 
of  the  sloth  or  the  march  of  the  snail  in  comparison  with  the 
swiftness  with  which  light  travels.  That  flies  nineteen  million 
times  quicker.  Death  is  an  electric  shock  we  receive  in  our 
hearts,  and  on  the  wings  of  electricity  the  liberated  soul  flies 
away.  The  sunlight  requires  eight  minutes  and  a  few  sec- 
onds for  a  journey  of  more  than  ninety-five  millions  of  miles; 
on  the  wings  of  electric  power  the  soul  requires  only  a  few 
moments  to  accomplish  the  same  flight.  The  space  between 
the  orbs  of  the  universe  is,  for  her,  not  greater  than,  for  us, 
the  distances  between  the  houses  of  our  friends  dwelling  in 
the  same  town,  and  even  living  close  together.  Yet  this 
electric  shock  costs  us  the  life  of  the  body  here  below,  un- 
less, like  the  watchman,  we  have  the  magic  goloshes  on. 

In  a  few  seconds  the  watchman  had  traversed  the  distance 
of  two  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  miles  to  the  moon,  which 
body,  as  we  know,  consists  of  a  much  lighter  material  than 
that  of  our  earth,  and  is,  as  we  should  say,  soft  as  new-fallen 
snow.  He  found  himself  on  one  of  the  many  ring  moun- 
tains with  which  we  are  familiar  through  Dr.  Madler's 
great  map  of  the  moon.  Within  the  ring  a  great  bowl- 
shaped  hollow  went  down  to  the  depth  of  a  couple  of  miles. 
At  the  base  of  the  hollow  lay  a  town,  of  whose  appearance 
we  can  only  form  an  idea  by  pouring  the  white  of  an  egg 
into  a  glass  of  water;  the  substance  here  was  just  as  soft  as 
the  white  of  an  egg,  and  formed  similar  towers,  and  cupolas, 


60  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

and  terraces  like  sails,  transparent  and  floating  in  the  thin 
air.  Our  earth  hung-  over  his  head  like  a  great  dark,  red 
ball. 

He  immediately  became  aware  of  a  number  of  beings, 
who  were  certainly  what  we  call  "men,"  but  their  appear- 
ance was  ver}^  different  from  ours.  If  they  had  been  put 
up  in  a  row  and  painted,  one  would  have  said,  "that's  a  beau- 
tiful arabesque!"  They  had  also  a  language;  but  no  one 
could  expect  that  the  soul  of  the  watchman  should  under- 
stand it.  But  the  watchman's  soul  did  understand  it,  for 
our  souls  have  far  greater  abilities  than  we  suppose.  Does 
not  its  wonderful  dramatic  talents  show  itself  in  our  dreams? 
Then  every  one  of  our  acquaintances  appears  speaking  in 
his  own  character,  and  with  his  own  voice,  in  a  way  that  no 
one  of  us  could  imitate  in  our  waking  hours.  How  does 
our  soul  bring  back  to  us  people  of  whom  we  have  not 
thought  for  many  years?  Suddenly  they  come  into  our 
souls  with  their  smallest  peculiarities  about  them.  In  fact, 
it  is  a  fearful  thing,  that  memory  which  our  souls  possess; 
it  can  reproduce  every  sin,  every  bad  thought.  And  then, . 
it  may  be  asked,  shall  we  be  able  to  give  an  account  of 
every  idle  word  that  has  been  in  our  hearts  and  on  our 
lips?'' 

Thus  the  watchman's  soul  understood  the  language  of  the 
people  in  the  moon  very  well.  They  disputed  about  this 
earth,  and  doubted  if  it  could  be  inhabited;  the  air,  they  as- 
serted, must  be  too  thick  for  a  sensible  moon-man  to  live 
there.  They  considered  that  the  moon  alone  was  peopled; 
for  that,  they  said,  was  the  real  body  in  which  the  old-world 
people  dwelt.     They  also  talked  of  politics. 

But  let  us  go  down  to  the  East  Street,  and  see  how  it  fared 
with  the  body  of  the  watchm.an. 

He  sat  lifeless  upon  the  stairs.  His  pipe  had  fallen  out  of 
his  hand,  and  his  eyes  stared  up  at  the  moon,  which  his 
honest  body  was  wondering  about. 

"What's  o'clock,  watchman?"  asked  a  passer-by.  But 
the  man  who  didn't  answer  was  the  watchman.  Then  the 
passengers  tweaked  him  quite  gently  by  the  nose,  and  then 
he  lost  his  balance.  There  lay  the  body  stretched  out  at  full 
length — the  man  was  dead.  All  his  comrades  were  very 
much  frightened;  dead  he  waSj  and  dead  he  remained.     It 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  61 

was  reported,  and  it  was  discussed,  and  in  the  morning  the 
body  was  carried  out  to  the  hospital. 

That  would  be  a  pretty  jest  for  the  soul  if  it  should  chance 
to  come  back,  and  probably  seek  its  body  in  the  East  Street, 
and  not  find  it!  Most  likely  it  would  go  first  to  the  police 
and  afterward  to  the  address  office,  that  inquiries  might  be 
made  from  thence  respecting  the  missing  goods ;  and  then  it 
would  wander  out  to  the  hospital.  But  we  may  console 
ourselves  with  the  idea  that  the  soul  is  most  clever  when 
it  acts  upon  its  own  account;  it  is  the  body  that  makes  it 
stupid. 

As  we  have  said,  the  watchman's  body  was  taken  to  the 
hospital,  and  brought  into  the  washing-room;  and  naturally 
enough  the  first  thing  they  did  there  was  to  pull  off  the  gol- 
oshes; and  then  the  soul  had  to  come  back.  It  took  its  way 
directly  toward  the  body,  and  in  a  few  seconds  there  was  life 
in  the  man.  He  declared  that  this  had  been  the  most  terri- 
ble night  of  his  life ;  he  would  not  have  such  feelings  again, 
not  for  a  shilling;  but  now  it  was  past  and  over. 

The  same  day  he  was  allowed  to  leave;  but  the  goloshes 
remained  at  the  hospital. 


IV. 

A  GREAT  MOMENT.— A  VERY  UNUSUAL  JOURNEY. 

Everyone  who  belongs  to  Copenhagen  knows  the  look  of 
the  entrance  to  the  Frederick's  Hospital  in  Copenhagen; 
but,  as  perhaps  a  few  will  read  this  story  who  do  not  be- 
long to  Copenhagen,  it  becomes  necessary  to  give  a  short 
description  of  it. 

The  hospital  is  separated  from  the  street  by  a  tolerably 
high  railing,  in  which  the  thick  iron  rails  stand  so  far  apart, 
that  certain  very  thin  inmates  are  said  to  have  squeezed  be- 
tween them,  and  thus  paid  their  little  visits  outside  the 
premises.  The  part  of  the  body  most  difficult  to  get  through 
was  the  head;  and  here,  as  it  often  happens  in  the  world, 
small  heads  were  the  most  fortunate.  This  will  be  sufficient 
as  an  introduction. 

One  of  the  young  volunteers,  of  whom  one  could  only  say 
in  one  sense  that  he  had  a  great  head,  had  the  watch  that 


62  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

evening.  The  rain  was  pouring  down;  but  in  spite  of  this 
obstacle  he  wanted  to  go  out,  only  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 
It  was  needless,  he  thought,  to  tell  the  porter  of  his  wish, 
especially  if  he  could  slip  through  between  the  rails.  There 
lay  the  goloshes  which  the  watchman  had  forgotten.  It 
never  occurred  to  him  in  the  least  that  they  were  gol- 
oshes of  Fortune.  They  would  do  him  very  good  service  in 
this  rainy  weather,  and  he  pulled  them  on.  Now  the  ques- 
tion was  whether  he  could  squeeze  through  the  bars;  till  now 
he  had  never  tried  it.     There  he  stood. 

"I  wish  to  goodness  I  had  my  head  outside!"  cried  he. 
And  immediately,  though  his  head  was  very  thick  and  big, 
it  glided  easily  and  quickly  through.  The  goloshes  must 
have  understood  it  well;  but  now  the  body  was  to  slip 
through  also,  and  that  could  not  be  done.  "I  am  too  fat. 
I  thought  my  head  was  the  thickest.     I  shan't  get  through." 

Now  he  wanted  to  pull  his  head  back  quickly,  but  he 
could  not  manage  it;  he  could  move  his  neck,  but  that  was 
all.  His  first  feeling  was  one  of  anger,  and  then  his  spirits 
sank  down  to  zero.  The  goloshes  of  Fortune  had  placed 
him  in  this  terrible  condition,  and,  unfortunately,  it  never 
occurred  to  him  to  wish  himself  free.  No ;  instead  of  wish- 
ing, he  only  strove,  and  could  not  stir  from  the  spot.  The 
rain  poured  down;  not  a  creature  was  to  be  seen  in  the 
street ;  he  could  not  reach  the  gate  bell,  and  how  was  he  to 
get  loose?  He  foresaw  that  he  would  have  to  remain  here 
vmtil  morning,  and  then  they  would  have  to  send  for  a 
blacksmith  to  file  through  the  iron  bars.  But  such  a  busi- 
ness is  not  to  be  done  quickly.  The  whole  charity  school 
would  be  upon  its  legs;  the  whole  sailors'  quarter  close  by 
would  come  up  and  see  him  standing  in  the  pillory;  and  a 
fine  crowd  there  would  be. 

"Hu!"  he  cried,  "the  blood's  rising  to  my  head,  and  I 
shall  go  mad!  Yes,  I'm  going  mad!  If  I  were  free,  most 
likely  it  would  pass  over." 

That  is  what  he  ought  to  have  said  at  first.  The  very 
moment  he  had  uttered  the  thought  his  head  was  free;  and 
now  he  rushed  in,  quite  dazed  with  the  fright  the  goloshes  of 
Fortune  had  given  him.  But  we  must  not  think  the  whole 
affair  was  over;  there  was  much  worse  to  come  yet. 

The  night  passed  away,  and  the  following  day  too,  and 
nobody  sent  for  the  goloshes.      In  the  evening  a  display  of 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY   TALES.  63 

oratory  was  to  take  place  in  an  amateur  theater  in  a  distant 
street.  The  house  was  crammed,  and  among  the  audience 
was  the  volunteer  from  the  hospital,  who  appeared  to  have 
forgotten  his  adventure  of  the  previous  evening.  He  had 
the  goloshes  on,  for  they  had  not  been  sent  for;  and  as  it 
was  dirty  in  the  streets,  they  might  do  him  good  service.  A 
new  piece  was  recited;  it  was  called  "My  Aunt's  Spectacles." 
These  were  spectacles  which,  when  anyone  put  them  on  in  a 
great  assembly  of  people,  made  all  present  look  like  cards, 
so  that  one  could  prophesy  from  them  all  that  would  happen 
in  the  coming  year. 

The  idea  struck  him ;  he  would  have  liked  to  possess  such 
a  pair  of  spectacles.  If  they  were  used  rightly,  they  would 
perhaps  enable  the  wearer  to  look  into  people's  hearts ;  and 
that,  he  thought,  would  be  more  interesting  than  to  see 
what  was  going  to  happen  in  the  next  year;  for  future  events 
would  be  known  in  time,  but  the  people's  thoughts  never. 

"Now  I'll  look  at  the  row  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  on  the 
first  bench ;  if  one  could  look  directly  into  their  hearts !  yes, 
that  must  be  a  hollow,  a  sort  of  shop.  How  my  eyes  would 
wander  about  in  that  shop!  In  every  lady's,  yonder,  I 
should  doubtless  find  a  great  milliner's  warehouse ;  with  this 
one  here  the  shop  is  empty,  but  it  would  do  no  harm  to  have 
it  cleaned  out.  But  would  there  really  be  such  shops?  Ah, 
yes!"  he  continued,  sighing,  "I  know  one  in  which  all  the 
goods  are  first-rate,  but  there's  a  servant  in  it  already;  that's 
the  only  drawback  in  the  whole  shop!  From  one  and  an- 
other the  word  would  be  'Please  to  step  in!'  Oh,  that  I 
might  only  step  in,  like  a  neat  little  thought,  and  slip 
through  their  hearts!" 

That  was  the  word  of  command  for  the  goloshes.  The 
volunteer  shriveled  up,  and  began  to  take  a  very  remarkable 
journey  through  the  hearts  of  the  first  row  of  spectators. 
The  first  heart  through  which  he  passed  was  that  of  a  lady, 
but  he  immediately  fancied  himself  in  the  Orthopaedic  In- 
stitute, in  the  room  where  the  plaster  casts  of  deformed  limbs 
are  kept  hanging  against  the  walls;  the  only  difference  was, 
that  these  casts  were  formed  in  the  institute  when  the  pa- 
tients came  in,  but  here  in  the  heart  they  were  formed  and 
preserved  after  the  good  persons  had  gone  away.  For  they 
were  casts  of  female  friends,  whose  bodily  and  mental  faults 
were  preserved  here. 


64  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

Quickly  he  had  passed  into  another  female  heart.  But  this 
seemed  to  him.  like  a  great  holy  church;  the  white  dove  of 
innocence  fluttered  over  the  high  altar.  Gladly  would  he 
have  sunk  down  on  his  knees;  but  he  was  obliged  to  go 
away  into  the  next  heart.  Still,  however,  he  heard  the 
tones  of  the  organ,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  himiself  had 
become  another  and  a  better  man.  He  felt  himself  not  un- 
worthy to  enter  into  the  next  sanctuary,  which  showed  itself 
in  the  form  of  a  poor  garret,  containing  a  sick  mother.  But 
through  the  window  the  warm  sun  streamed  in,  and  two 
sky-blue  birds  sang  full  of  childlike  joy,  while  the  sick 
mother  prayed  for  a  blessing  on  her  daughter. 

Now  he  crept  on  his  hands  and  knees  through  an  over- 
filled butcher's  shop.  There  was  meat,  and  nothing  but 
meat,  wherever  he  went.  It  was  the  heart  of  a  rich,  re- 
spectable man,  whose  name  is  certainly  to  be  found  in  the 
address  book. 

Now  he  was  in  the  heart  of  this  man's  wife ;  this  heart  was 
an  old  dilapidated  pigeon-house.  The  husband's  portrait 
was  used  as  a  mere  weathercock;  it  stood  in  connection  with 
the  doors,  and  these  doors  opened  and  shut  according  as 
the  husband  turned. 

Then  he  came  into  a  cabinet  of  mirrors,  such  as  w^e  find  in 
the  Castle  of  Rosenburg;  but  the  mirrors  magnified  in  a 
great  degree.  In  the  middle  of  the  floor  sat,  like  a  Grand 
Lama,  the  insignificant  I  of  the  proprietor,  astonished  in 
the  contemplation  of  his  own  greatness. 

Then  he  fancied  himself  transported  into  a  narrow  needle- 
case  full  of  pointed  needles;  and  he  thought,  "This  must  de- 
cidedly be  the  heart  of  an  old  maid!"  But  that  was  not  the 
case.  It  was  the  heart  of  a  young  officer,  wearing  several 
orders,  and  of  whom  one  said,  "He's  a  man  of  intellect  and 
heart." 

Quite  confused  was  the  poor  volunteer  when  he  emerged 
from  the  heart  of  the  last  person  in  the  first  row.  He  could 
not  arrange  his  thoughts,  and  fancied  it  must  be  his  power- 
ful imagination  which  had  run  away  with  him. 

"Gracious  powers!"  he  sighed.  "I  must  certainly  have  a 
great  tendency  to  go  mad.  It  is  also  unconscionably  hot  in 
here;  the  blood  is  rising  to  my  head!" 

And  now  he  remembered  the  great  event  of  the  last  even- 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  65 

ing;  how  his  head  had  been  caught  between  the  iron  rails  of 
the  hospital. 

"That's  where  I  must  have  caught  it,"  thought  he.  "I 
must  do  something  at  once.  A  Russian  bath  might  be  very 
good.  I  wish  I  were  lying  on  the  highest  board  in  the  bath- 
house." 

And  there  he  lay  on  the  highest  board  in  the  vapor  bath; 
but  he  was  lying  there  in  all  his  clothes,  in  boots  and  gol- 
oshes, and  the  hot  drops  from  the  ceiling  were  falling  on  his 
face. 

"Hi!"  he  cried,  and  jumped  down  to  take  a  plunge  bath. 

The  attendant  uttered  a  loud  cry  on  seeing  a  person  there 
with  all  his  clothes  on.  The  volunteer  had,  however, 
enough  presence  of  mind  to  whisper  to  him,  "It's  for  a 
wager!"  But  the  first  thing  he  did  when  he  got  into  his 
own  room  was  to  put  a  big  blister  on  the  nape  of  his  neck, 
and  another  on  his  back,  that  they  might  draw  out  his  mad- 
ness. 

Next  morning  he  had  a  very  sore  back ;  and  that  was  all 
he  had  got  by  the  goloshes  of  Fortune. 


V. 

THE  TRANSFORMATION  OF  THE   COPYING   CLERK. 

The  watchman,  whom  we  surely  have  not  yet  forgotten, 
in  the  meantime  thought  of  the  goloshes,  which  he  had 
found  and  brought  to  the  hospital.  He  took  them  away; 
but  as  neither  the  lieutenant  nor  anyone  in  the  street  would 
own  them,  they  were  taken  to  the  police  office. 

"They  look  exactly  like  my  own  goloshes,"  said  one  of  the 
copying  gentlemen,  as  he  looked  at  the  unowned  articles 
and  put  them  beside  his  own.  "More  than  a  shoemaker's 
eye  is  required  to  distinguish  them  from  one  another."' 

"Mr.  Copying  Clerk,"  said  a  servant,  coming  in  with 
some  papers. 

The  copying  clerk  turned  and  spoke  to  the  man;  when  he 
had  done  this,  he  turned  to  look  at  the  goloshes  again;  he 
was  in  great  doubt  if  the  right-hand  or  the  left-hand  pair  be- 
longed to  him. 

"It  must  be  those  that  are  wet,"  he  thought.     Now  here 

5 


66  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

he  thought  wrong,  for  these  were  the  goloshes  of  Fortune; 
but  why  should  not  the  police  be  sometimes  mistaken?  He 
put  them  on,  thrust  his  papers  into  his  pocket,  and  put  a 
few  manuscripts  under  his  arm,  for  they  were  to  be  read  at 
home,  and  abstracts  to  be  made  from  them.  And  now  it 
was  Sunday  morning,  and  the  weather  was  fine.  "A  walk 
to  Fredericksburg  would  do  me  good,"  said  he;  and  he  went 
out  accordingly. 

There  could  not  be  a  quieter,  steadier  person  than  this 
young  man.  We  grant  him  his  little  walk  with  all  our 
hearts;  it  will  certainly  do  him  good  after  so  much  sitting. 
At  first  he  only  walked  like  a  vegetating  creature,  so  the 
goloshes  had  no  opportunity  of  displaying  their  magic 
power. 

In  the  avenue  he  met  an  acquaintance,  one  of  our 
younger  poets,  who  told  him  he  was  going  to  start  next  day 
on  a  summer  trip. 

"Are  you  going  away  again  already?"  asked  the  copying 
clerk.  "What  a  happy,  free  man  you  are!  You  can  fly 
wherever  you  like ;  we  others  have  a  chain  to  our  foot." 

"But  it  is  fastened  to  the  bread  tree!"  replied  the  poet. 
"You  need  not  be  anxious  for  the  morrow;  and  when  you 
grow  old  you  get  a  pension." 

"But  you  are  better  off,  after  all,"  said  the  copying  clerk. 
"It  must  be  a  pleasure  to  sit  and  write  poetry.  Everybody 
says  agreeable  things  to  you,  and  then  you  are  your  own 
master.  Ah,  yon  should  just  try  it,  poring  over  the  frivol- 
ous affairs  in  the  court." 

The  poet  shook  his  head;  the  copying  clerk  shook  his 
head  also;  each  retained  his  own  opinion;  and  thus  they 
parted. 

"They  are  a  strange  race,  these  poets !"  thought  the  copy- 
ing clerk.  "I  should  like  to  try  and  enter  into  such  a  nature 
— to  become  a  poet  myself.  I  am  certain  I  should  not  write 
such  complaining  verses  as  the  rest.  What  a  splendid 
spring  day  for  a  poet!  The  air  is  so  remarkably  clear,  the 
clouds  are  so  beautiful,  and  the  green  smells  so  sweet.  For 
many  years  I  have  not  felt  as  I  feel  at  this  moment." 

We  already  notice  that  he  has  become  a  poet.  To  point 
this  out  would,  in  most  cases,  be  what  the  Germans  call 
"mawkish."  It  is  a  foolish  fancy  to  imagine  a  poet  different 
from  other  people,  for  among  the  latter  there  may  be  na- 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES.  67 

tures  more  poetical  than  those  of  many  an  acknowledged 
poet.  The  difference  is  only  that  the  poet  has  a  better  spir- 
itual memory;  his  ears  hold  fast  the  feeling  and  the  idea 
until  they  are  embodied  clearly  and  firmly  in  words;  and 
the  others  cannot  do  that.  But  the  transition  from  an  every- 
day nature  to  that  of  a  poet  is  always  a  transition,  and  as 
such  it  must  be  noticed  in  the  copying  clerk. 

"What  glorious  fragrance!''  he  cried.  "How  it  reminds 
me  of  the  violets  at  Aunt  Laura's!  Yes,  that  was  when  I 
was  a  little  boy.  I  have  not  thought  of  that  for  a  long  time. 
Tlie  good  old  lady!  She  lies  yonder,  by  the  canal.  She 
always  had  a  twig  or  a  couple  of  green  shoots  in  the  water, 
let  the  winter  be  as  severe  as  it  might.  The  violets  bloomed, 
while  I  had  to  put  warm  farthings  against  the  frozen  win- 
dow-panes to  make  peep-holes.  That  was  a  pretty  view. 
Out  in  the  canal  the  ships  were  frozen  in,  and  deserted  by 
the  whole  crew ;  a  screaming  crow  was  the  only  living  crea- 
ture left.  Then,  when  the  spring  breezes  blew,  it  all  became 
lively;  the  ice  was  sawn  asunder  amid  shouting  and  cheers, 
the  ships  were  tarred  and  rigged,  and  then  they  sailed  away 
to  strange  lands.  I  remained  here,  and  must  always  remain, 
and  sit  at  the  police  ofhce,  and  let  others  take  passports  for 
abroad.  That's  my  fate.  Oh,  yes!"  and  he  sighed  deeply. 
Suddenly  he  paused.  "Good  Heaven!  what  is  come  to  me? 
I  never  thought  or  felt  as  I  do  now.  It  must  be  the  spring 
air;  it  is  just  as  dizzying  as  it  is  charming!"  He  felt  in  his 
pockets  for  his  papers. 

"These  will  give  me  something  else  to  think  of,"  said  he, 
and  let  his  eyes  wander  over  the  first  leaf.  There  he  read: 
"  'Dame  Sigbirth;  an  original  tragedy  in  five  acts.'  What  is 
that?  And  it  is  my  own  hand.  Have  I  written  this  tragedy? 
'The  Intrigue  on  the  Promenade ;  or,  the  Day  of  Penance — 
Vaudeville.'  But  where  did  I  get  that  from?  It  must  have 
been  put  into  my  pocket.  Here  is  a  letter.  Yes,  it  was 
from  the  manager  of  the  theater;  the  pieces  were  rejected, 
and  the  letter  is  not  at  all  politely  worded.  H'm!  H'm!''  said 
the  copying  clerk,  and  he  sat  down  upon  a  bench;  his 
thoughts  were  elastic;  his  head  was  quite  soft.  Involun- 
tarily he  grasped  one  of  the  nearest  flowers;  it  was  a  common 
little  daisy.  What  the  botanists  required  several  lectures  to 
explain  to  us,  this  flower  told  in  a  minute.  It  told  the  glory 
of  its  birth;  it  told  of  the  strength  of  the  sunlight,  which 


68  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

Spread  out  the  delicate  leaves  and  made  them  give  out  fra- 
grance. Then  he  thought  of  the  battles  of  life,  which  like- 
wise awaken  feelings  in  our  breasts.  Air  and  light  are  the 
lovers  of  the  flower,  but  light  is  the  favored  one.  Toward 
the  light  it  turned,  and  only  when  the  light  vanished  the 
flower  rolled  her  leaves  together  and  slept  in  the  embrace  of 
the  air. 

"It  is  light  that  adorns  me!"  said  the  Flower. 

"But  the  air  allows  you  to  breathe,"  whispered  the  poet's 
voice. 

Just  by  him  stood  a  boy,  knocking  with  his  stick  upon  the 
marshy  ground.  The  drops  of  water  spurted  up  among  the 
green  twigs,  and  the  copying  clerk  thought  of  the  millions 
of  infusoria  which  were  cast  up  on  high  with  the  drops, 
which  were  the  same  to  them,  in  proportion  to  their  size,  as 
it  would  be  to  us  if  we  were  hurled  high  over  the  region  of 
clouds.  And  the  copying  clerk  thought  of  this,  and  of  the 
great  change  which  had  taken  place  within  him ;  he  smiled. 
"I  sleep  and  dream!  it  is  wonderful,  though,  how  naturally 
one  can  dream  and  yet  know  all  the  tim.e  that  it  is  a  dream. 
I  should  like  to  be  able  to  remember  it  all  clearly  to-morrow 
when  I  wake.  I  seem  to  myself  quite  unusually  excited. 
What  a  clear  appreciation  I  have  of  everything,  and  how 
free  I  feel!  But  I  am  certain  that  if  I  remember  anything 
of  it  to-morrow,  it  will  be  nonsense.  That  has  often  been 
so  with  me  before.  It  is  with  all  the  clever,  famous  things 
one  says  and  hears  in  dreams,  as  with  the  money  of  the  elves 
under  the  earth ;  when  one  receives  it,  it  is  rich  and  beautiful, 
but,  looked  at  by  daylight,  it  is  nothing  but  stones  and  dried 
leaves.  Ah!"  he  sighed,  quite  plaintivel}^  and  gazed  at  the 
chirping  birds,  as  they  sprang  merrily  from  bough  to  bough, 
"they  are  much  better  off  than  I.  Flying  is  a  noble  art. 
Happy  he  who  is  born  with  wings.  Yes,  if  I  could  change 
myself  into  anything,  it  should  be  into  a  lark." 

In  a  moment  his  coat-tails  and  sleeves  grew  together  and 
formed  wings;  his  clothes  became  feathers,  and  his  goloshes 
claws.  He  noticed  it  quite  plainly,  and  laughed  inwardly. 
"Well,  now  I  can  see  that  I  am  dreaming,  but  so  wildly  I 
have  never  dreamed  before."  And  he  flew  up  into  the  green 
boughs  and  sang;  but  there  was  no  poetry  in  the  song,  for 
the  poetic  nature  was  gone.  The  goloshes,  like  everyone 
who  wishes  to  do  any  business  thoroughly,  could  only  do 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  69 

one  thing  at  a  time.  He  wished  to  be  a  poet,  and  he  became 
one.  Then  he  wished  to  be  a  Httle  bird,  and,  in  changing 
thus,  the  former  pecuHarity  was  lost, 

"That  is  charming!"  he  said.  "In  the  day-time  I  sit  in 
the  pohce  office  among  the  driest  of  law  papers;  at  night  I 
can  dream  that  I  am  flying  about  as  a  lark  in  the  Freder- 
icksburg Garden.  One  could  really  write  quite  a  popular 
comedy  upon  it." 

Now  he  flew  down  into  the  grass,  turned  his  head  in  every 
direction,  and  beat  with  his  beak  upon  the  bending  stalks  of 
grass,  which,  in  proportion  to  his  size,  seemed  to  him  as 
long  as  palm  branches  of  Northern  Africa. 

It  was  only  for  a  moment,  and  then  all  around  him  be- 
came as  the  blackest  night.  It  seemed  to  him  that  some  im- 
mense substance  was  cast  over  him;  it  was  a  great  cap, 
which  a  sailor-boy  threw  over  the  bird.  A  hand  came  in 
and  seized  the  copying  clerk  by  the  back  and  wings  in  a  way 
that  made  him  whistle.  In  his  first  terror  he  cried  aloud, 
"The  impudent  rascal!  I  am  copying  clerk  at  the  police 
office!"  But  that  sounded  to  the  boy  only  like  "piep!  piep!" 
and  he  tapped  the  bird  on  the  beak  and  wandered  on  with 
him. 

In  the  alley  the  boy  met  with  two  other  boys,  who  be- 
longed to  the  educated  classes,  socially  speaking;  but,  ac- 
cording to  abilities,  they  ranked  in  the  lowest  class  in  the 
school.  These  bought  the  bird  for  a  few  Danish  shillings; 
and  so  the  copying  clerk  was  carried  back  to  Copenhagen. 

"It's  a  good  thing  that  I  am  dreaming,"  he  said,  "or  I 
should  become  really  angry.  First  I  was  a  poet,  and  now 
Fm  a  lark !  Yes,  it  must  have  been  the  poetic  nature  which 
transformed  me  into  that  little  creature.  It  is  a  miserable 
state  of  things,  especially  when  one  falls  into  the  hands  of 
boys.     I  should  like  to  know  what  the  end  of  it  will  be." 

The  boys  carried  him  into  a  very  elegant  room.  A  stout 
and  smiling  lady  received  them.  But  she  was  not  at  all 
gratified  to  see  the  common  field  bird,  as  she  called  the  lark, 
coming  in,  too.  Only  for  one  day  she  would  consent  to  it; 
but  they  must  put  the  bird  in  the  empty  cage  which  stood  by 
the  window. 

"Perhaps  that  will  please  Polly,"  she  added,  and  laughed 
at  a  great  Parrot  swinging  himself  proudly  in  his  ring  in 


70  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

the  handsome  brass  cage.  "It's  Polly's  birthday,"  she  said, 
simply,  "so  the  little  field  bird  shall  congratulate  him." 

Polly  did  not  answer  a  single  word;  he  only  swnng 
proudly  to  and  fro.  But  a  pretty  Canary  bird,  who  had 
been  brought  here  last  summer  out  of  his  warm,  fragrant 
fatherland,  began  to  sing  loudly. 

"Screamer!"  said  the  lady;  and  she  threw  a  white  hand- 
kerchief over  the  cage. 

"Piep!  piep!"  sighed  he;  "here's  a  terrible  snowstorm." 
And  thus  sighing,  he  was  silent. 

The  copying  clerk,  or,  as  the  lady  called  him,  the  field 
bird,  was  placed  in  a  little  cage  close  to  the  Canary,  and  not 
far  from  the  Parrot.  The  only  human  words  which  Polly 
could  say,  and  which  often  sounded  very  comically,  were 
"Come,  let's  be  men  now!"  Everything  else  that  he 
screamed  out  was  just  as  unintelligible  as  the  song  of  the 
Canary  bird,  except  for  the  copying  clerk,  who  was  now 
also  a  bird,  and  who  understood  his  comrades  very  well. 

"I  flew  under  the  green  palm  tree  and  the  blossoming 
almond  tree!"  sang  the  Canary.  "I  flew  with  m}^  brothers 
and  sisters  over  the  beautiful  flowers  and  over  the  bright 
sea,  where  the  plants  waved  in  the  depths.  I  also  saw 
many  beautiful  parrots,  who  told  the  merriest  stories.'' 

"Those  were  wild  birds,"  replied  the  Parrot.  "They  had 
no  education.  Let  us  be  men  now!  Why  don't  you  laugh? 
If  the  lady  and  all  the  strangers  could  laugh  at  it,  so  can 
you.  It  is  a  great  fault  to  have  no  taste  for  what  is  pleas- 
ant.    No,  let  us  be  men  now." 

"Do  you  remember  the  pretty  girls  who  danced  under  the 
tents  spread  out  beneath  the  blooming  trees?  Do  you  re- 
member the  sweet  fruits  and  the  cooling  juice  in  the  Avild 
plants?" 

"Oh,  yes!"  replied  the  Parrot;  "but  here  I  am  far  better 
off.  I  have  good  care  and  genteel  treatment.  I  know  I've 
a  good  head,  and  I  don't  ask  for  more.  Let  us  be  men  now. 
You  are  what  they  call  a  poetic  soul.  I  have  thorough 
knowledge  and  wit.  You  have  genius  but  no  prudence. 
You  mount  up  into  those  high  natural  notes  of  yours,  and 
then  you  get  covered  up.  This  is  never  done  to  me;  no,  no, 
for  I  cost  them  a  little  more.  I  make  an  impression  with 
my  beak,  and  can  cast  wit  round  me.     Now  let  us  be  men!" 

"Oh.  my  poor  blooming  fatherland!''  sang  the  Canary. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  71 

"I  will  praise  thy  dark  green  trees  and  thy  quiet  bays,  where 
the  branches  kiss  the  clear  watery  mirror;  I'll  sing  of  the 
joy  of  all  my  shining  brothers  and  sisters,  where  the  plants 
grow  by  the  desert  springs." 

"Now,  pray  leave  off  these  dismal  tones,"  cried  the  Par- 
rot. "Sing  something  at  which  one  can  laugh!  Laughter 
is  the  sign  of  the  highest  mental  development.  Look  if  a 
dog  or  a  horse  can  laugh!  No;  they  can  cry;  but  laughter 
— that  is  given  to  men  alone.  Ho!  ho!  ho!"  screamed 
Polly,  and  finished  the  jest  with:  "Let  us  be  men  now." 

"You  little  gray  northern  bird,"  said  the  Canary ;  "so  you 
have  also  become  a  prisoner.  It  is  certainly  cold  in  your 
woods,  but  still  liberty  is  there.  Fly  out !  they  have  forgot- 
ten to  close  your  cage;  the  upper  window  is  open.  Fly! 
fly!" 

Instinctively  the  copying  clerk  obeyed,  and  flew  forth 
from  his  prison.  At  the  same  moment  the  half-opened  door 
of  the  next  room  creaked,  and  stealthily,  with  fierce,  spark- 
ling eyes,  the  house  cat  crept  in,  and  made  chase  upon  him. 
The  Canary  fluttered  in  its  cage,  the  Parrot  flapped  its 
wings,  and  cried  "Let  us  be  men  now!"  The  copying  clerk 
felt  mortally  afraid,  and  flew  through  the  window,  away 
over  the  houses  and  streets ;  at  last  he  was  obliged  to  rest  a 
little. 

The  house  opposite  had  a  homelike  look ;  one  of  the  win- 
dows stood  open,  and  he  flew  in.  It  was  his  own  room;  he 
perched  upon  the  table. 

"Let  us  be  men  now,"  he  broke  out,  involuntarily  imitat- 
ing the  Parrot ;  and  in  the  same  moment  he  was  restored  to 
the  form  of  the  copying  clerk;  but  he  was  sitting  on  the 
table. 

"'Heaven  preserve  me!"  he  cried.  "How  could  I  have 
come  here  and  fallen  so  soundly  asleep?  That  was  an  un- 
quiet dream,  too,  that  I  had.  The  whole  thing  was  great 
nonsense." 


72  ANDEBSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES. 

VI. 

THE  BEST  THAT  THE  GOLOSHES  BROUGHT. 

On  the  following  day,  quite  early  in  the  morning,  as  the 
clerk  still  lay  in  bed,  there  came  a  tapping  at  his  door;  it 
was  his  neighbor,  who  lodged  on  the  same  floor,  a  young 
theologian;  and  he  came  in. 

"Lend  me  your  goloshes,"  said  he.  "It  is  very  wet  in  the 
garden.  But  the  sun  shines  gloriously,  and  I  should  like  to 
smoke  a  pipe  down  there." 

He  put  On  the  goloshes,  and  was  soon  in  the  garden, 
which  contained  a  plum  tree  and  an  apple  tree.  Even  a 
little  garden  like  this  is  highly  prized  in  the  midst  of  great 
cities. 

The  theologian  wandered  up  and  down  the  path;  it  was 
only  six  o'clock,  and  a  post-horn  sounded  out  in  the  street. 

"Oh,  traveling!  traveling!"  he  cried  out,  "that's  the  great- 
est happiness  in  all  the  world.  That's  the  highest  goal  of 
my  wishes.  Then  this  disquietude  that  I  feel  would  be 
stilled.  But  it  would  have  to  be  far  away.  I  should  like  to 
see  beautiful  Switzerland,  to  travel  through  Italy,  to " 

Yes,  it  was  a  good  thing  that  the  goloshes  took  effect  im- 
mediately, for  he  might  have  gone  too  far  even  for  himself, 
and  for  us  others,  too.  He  was  traveling;  he  was  in  the 
midst  of  Switzerland,  packed  tightly  with  eight  others  in  the 
interior  of  a  diligence.  He  had  a  headache  and  a  weary 
feeling  in  his  neck,  and  his  feet  had  gone  to  sleep,  for  they 
were  swollen  by  the  heavy  boots  he  had  on.  He  was  hov- 
ering in  a  condition  between  sleeping  and  waking.  In  the 
right-hand  pocket  he  had  his  letters  of  credit,  in  his  left- 
hand  pocket  his  passport,  and  a  few  louis  d'or  were  sewn 
into  a  little  bag  he  wore  on  his  breast.  Whenever  he  dozed 
off,  he  dreamed  he  had  lost  one  or  other  of  these  posses- 
sions ;  and  then  he  would  start  up  in  a  feverish  w^ay,  and  the 
first  movement  his  hand  made  was  to  describe  a  triangle 
from  left  to  right,  and  toward  his  breast,  to  feel  whether  he 
still  possessed  them  or  not.  Umbrellas,  hats,  and  walking- 
sticks  swung  in  the  net  over  him  and  almost  took  away  the 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES.  73 

prospect,  which  was  impressive  enough;  he  glanced  out  at 
it,  and  his  heart  sang  what  one  poet  at  least,  whom  we  know, 
has  sung  in  Switzerland,  but  has  not  yet  printed: 

'Tis  a  prospect  as  fine  as  heart  can  desire, 

Before  me  Mont  Blanc  the  rough; 
'Tis  pleasant  to  tarry  here  and  admire, 
If  only  you've  money  enough. 

Great,  grave,  and  dark  was  all  nature  around  him.     The 
pine  woods  looked  like  little  mosses  upon  the  high  rocks, 
vvhose  summits  were  lost  in  cloudy  mists ;  and  then  it  began 
to  snow,  and  the  wind  blew  cold. 

"Hu!"  he  sighed;  '"if  we  were  only  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Alps,  then  it  would  be  summer,  and  I  should  have  got 
money  on  my  letter  of  credit;  my  anxiety  about  this  pre- 
vents me  from  enjoying  Switzerland.  Oh,  if  I  were  only  at 
the  other  side!" 

And  then  he  was  on  the  other  side,  in  the  mists  of  Italy, 
between  Florence  and  Rome.  The  Lake  Thrasymene  lay 
spread  out  in  the  evening  light,  like  flaming  gold  among  the 
dark  blue  hills.  Here,  where  Hannibal  beat  Flaminius,  the 
grape  vines  held  each  other  by  their  green  fingers;  pretty, 
half-naked  children  were  keeping  a  herd  of  coal-black  pigs 
under  a  clump  of  fragrant  laurels  by  the  wayside.  If  we 
could  reproduce  this  scene  accuratel}-,  all  would  cry,  "Glori- 
ous Italy!"  But  neither  the  theologian  nor  any  of  his 
traveling  companions  in  the  carriage  of  the  vetturino 
thought  this. 

Poisonous  flies  and  gnats  flew  into  the  carriage  by  thou- 
sands. In  vain  they  beat  the  air  frantically  v,^ith  a  myrtle 
branch— the  flies  stung  them  nevertheless.  There  was  not 
one  person  in  the  carriage  whose  face  was  not  swollen  and 
covered  with  stings.  The  poor  horses  looked  miserable  the 
flies  tormented  them  wofully,  and  it  only  mended  the  matter 
for  a  moment  when  the  coachman  dismounted  and  scraped 
them  clean  from  the  insects  that  sat  upon  them  in  .o-reat 
swarms.  Now  the  sun  sank  down ;  a  short  but  icy  coldness 
pervaded  all  nature;  it  was  like  the  cold  air  of' a  funeral 
vault  after  the  sultry  summer  day;  and  all  around  the  hills 
and  clouds  put  on  that  rem.arkable  green  tone  which  we  no- 
tice on  some  old  pictures,  and  consider  unnatural  unless  we 


74  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

have  ourselves  witnessed  a  similar  play  of  color.  It  was  a 
glorious  spectacle;  but  the  stomachs  of  all  were  empty  and 
their  bodies  exhausted,  and  every  wish  of  the  heart  turned 
toward  a  resting-place  for  the  night;  but  how  could  that  be 
won?  To  descry  this  resting  place  all  eyes  were  turned 
more  eagerly  to  the  road  than  to  the  beauties  of  nature. 

The  way  now  led  through  an  olive  wood;  he  could  have 
fancied  himself  passing  between  knotty  willow  trunks  at 
home.  Here,  by  the  solitary  inn,  a  dozen  crippled  beggars 
had  taken  up  their  positions;  the  quickest  among  them 
looked,  to  quote  an  expression  of  Marryat's,  like  the  eldest 
son  of  Famine,  who  had  just  come  of  age.  The  others  were 
either  blind  or  had  withered  legs,  so  that  they  crept  about 
on  their  hands,  or  they  had  withered  arms  and  fingerless 
hands.  This  was  misery  in  rags  indeed.  ^'Ecccllcnza  niis- 
erabillP'  they  sighed,  and  stretched  forth  their  diseased 
limbs.  The  hostess  herself,  in  untidy  hair,  and  dressed  in  a 
dirty  blouse,  received  her  guests.  The  doors  were  tied  up 
with  string;  the  floor  of  the  room  was  of  brick,  and  half  of 
it  was  grubbed  up;  bats  flew  about  under  the  roof,  and  the 

smell  within 

"Yes,  lay  the  table  down  in  the  stable,"  said  one  of  the 
travelers.  "There,  at  least,  one  knows  what  one  is  breath- 
ing." 

The  windows  were  opened,  so  that  a  little  fresh  air  might 
find  i'ts  way  in;  but  quicker  than  the  fresh  air  came  the 
withered  arms  and  the  continual  whining,  ^^Miserabili,  Ec- 
cellenza/"  On  the  walls  were  many  inscriptions;  half  of 
them  were  against  "Labella  Italia." 

The  supper  was  served.  It  consisted  of  a  watery  soup, 
seasoned  with  pepper  and  rancid  oil.  This  last  dainty 
played  a  chief  part  in  a  salad;  musty  eggs  and  roasted 
cocks'-combs  were  the  best  dishes.  Even  the  wine  had  a 
strange  taste — it  was  a  dreadful  mixture. 

At  night  the  boxes  were  placed  against  the  doors.  One 
of  the  travelers  kept  watch  while  the  others  slept.  The 
theologian  was  the  sentry.  Oh,  how  close  it  was  in  there! 
The  heat  oppressed  him,  the  gnats  buzzed  and  stung,  and 
the  mtserabili  outside  moaned  in  their  dreams. 

"Yes,  traveling  would  be  all  very  well,"  said  the  theo- 
logian, "if  one  had  no  body.  If  the  body  could  rest  and  the 
mind  fly !    Wherever  I  go,  I  find  a  want  that  oppresses  my 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  75 

heart;  it  is  something  better  than  the  present  moment  I  de- 
sire. Yes,  something  better — the  best;  but  what  is  that, 
and  where  is  it?  In  my  own  heart  I  know  very  weh  what 
I  want;  I  want  to  attain  to  a  happy  goal,  the  happiest  of 
ah!" 

And  so  soon  as  the  word  was  spoken  he  found  himself  at 
home.  The  long  white  curtains  hung  down  from  the  win- 
dows, and  in  the  middle  of  the  room  stood  a  black  coffin;  in 
this  he  was  lying  in  the  quiet  sleep  of  death;  his  wish  was 
fulfilled — his  body  was  at  rest  and  his  spirit  roaming.  "Es- 
teem no  man  happy  who  is  not  yet  in  his  grave,"  were  the 
words  of  Solon;  here  their  force  was  proved  anew. 

Every  corpse  is  a  sphinx  of  immortality;  the  sphinx  here 
also  in  the  black  sarcophagus  answered,  what  the  living 
man  had  laid  down  two  days  before: 

"Thou  strong,  stern  Death!    Thy  silence  waketh  fear; 
Thou  leavest  mold'ring  gravestones  for  thy  traces. 
Shall  not  the  soul  see  Jacob's  ladder  here? 
No  resurrection  type,  but  churchyard  grasses? 
The  deepest  woes  escape  the  world's  dull  eye: 
Thou  that  alone  on  duty's  path  hath  sped. 
Heavier  those  duties  on  thy  heart  Vv'ould  lie 
Than  lies  the  earth  now  on  thy  coffined  head." 

Two  forms  were  moving  to  and  fro  in  the  room.  We 
know  them  both.  They  were  the  Fairy  of  Care  and  the 
Ambassadress  of  Happiness.  They  bent  down  over  the 
dead  man. 

"Do  you  see?"  said  Care.  "What  happiness  have  your 
goloshes  brought  to  men?" 

"They  have  at  least  brought  a  permanent  benefit  to  him 
who  slumbers  here,"  replied  Happiness. 

"Oh,  no!"  said  Care.  "He  went  away  of  himself;  he  was 
not  summoned.  His  spirit  was  not  strong  enough  to  lift 
the  treasures  w^hich  he  had  been  destined  to  lift.  I  will  do 
him  a  favor." 

And  she  drew  the  goloshes  from  his  feet;  then  the  sleep  of 
death  was  ended,  and  the  awakened  man  raised  himself  up. 
Care  vanished,  and  with  her  the  goloshes  disappeared  too; 
doubtless  she  looked  upon  them  as  her  property. 


76  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 


THE  HARDY  TIN  SOLDIER. 

There  were  once  five-and-twenty  tin  soldiers;  they  were 
all  brothers,  for  they  had  all  been  born  of  one  old  tin  spoon. 
They  shouldered  their  muskets,  and  looked  straight  before 
them;  their  uniform  was  red  and  blue,  and  very  splendid. 
The  first  thing  they  had  heard  in  the  world,  when  the  lid  was 
taken  ofif  their  box,  had  been  the  words  "Tin  soldiers!" 
These  words  were  uttered  by  a  little  boy,  clapping  his 
hands;  the  soldiers  had  been  given  to  him,  for  it  was  his 
birthday;  and  now  he  put  them  upon  the  table.  Each  sol- 
dier was  exactly  like  the  rest;  but  one  of  them  had  been  cast 
last  of  all,  and  there  had  not  been  enough  tin  to  finish  him; 
but  he  stood  as  firmly  upon  his  one  leg  as  the  others  on 
their  two;  and  it  was  just  this  Soldier  who  became  remark- 
able. 

On  the  table  on  which  they  had  been  placed  stood  many 
other  playthings,  but  the  toy  that  attracted  most  attention 
was  a  neat  castle  of  cardboard.  Through  the  little  windov/s 
one  could  see  straight  into  the  hall.  Before  the  castle  some 
little  trees  were  placed  round  a  little  looking  glass,  which 
was  to  represent  a  clear  lake.  Waxen  swans  swam  on  this 
lake,  and  were  mirrored  in  it.  This  was  all  very  pretty ;  but 
the  prettiest  of  all  was  a  little  lady,  who  stood  at  the  open 
door  of  the  castle;  she  was  also  cut  out  in  paper,  but  she 
had  a  dress  of  the  clearest  gauze,  and  a  little  narrow  blue 
ribbon  over  her  shoulders,  that  looked  like  a  scarf;  and  in 
the  middle  of  this  ribbon  was  a  shining  tinsel  rose  as  big  as 
her  whole  face.  The  little  lady  stretched  out  both  her  arms, 
for  she  was  a  dancer;  and  then  she  lifted  one  leg  so  high 
that  the  Tin  Soldier  could  not  see  it  at  all,  and  thought  that, 
like  himself,  she  had  but  one  leg. 

"That  would  be  the  wife  for  me,"  thought  he ;  "but  she  is 
very  grand.  She  lives  in  a  castle,  and  I  have  only  a  box, 
and  there  are  five-and-twenty  of  us  in  that.  It  is  no  place 
for  her.     But  I  must  try  to  make  acquaintance  with  her." 

And  then  he  lay  down  at  full  length  behind  a  snuff-box 
-which  was  on  the  table ;  there  he  could  easily  watch  the  little 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  77 

dainty  lady,  who  continued  to  stand  upon  one  leg  without 
losing  her  balance. 

When  the  evening  came  all  the  other  tin  soldiers  were 
put  into  their  box,  and  the  people  in  the  house  went  to  bed. 
Now  the  toys  began  to  play  at  "visiting,"  and  at  "war,"  and 
"giving  balls."  The  tin  soldiers  rattled  in  their  box,  for 
they  wanted  to  join,  but  could  not  lift  the  lid.  The  nut- 
cracker threw  somersaults,  and  the  pencil  amused  itself  on 
the  table;  there  was  so  much  noise  that  the  Canary  woke  up, 
and  began  to  speak  too,  and  even  in  verse.  The  only  two 
who  did  not  stir  from  their  places  were  the  Tin  Soldier  and 
the  Dancing  Lady;  she  stood  straight  up  on  the  point  of  one 
of  her  toes,  and  stretched  out  both  her  arms;  and  he  was  just 
as  enduring  on  his  one  leg;  and  he  never  turned  his  eyes 
away  from  her. 

Now  the  clock  struck  twelve — and,  bounce!  the  lid  flew 
o&  the  snuff-box;  but  there  was  no  snuff  in  it,  but  a  little 
black  Goblin ;  you  see,  it  was  a  trick. 

"Tin  Soldier!"  said  the  Goblin,  "don't  stare  at  things  that 
don't  concern  you." 

But  the  Tin  Soldier  pretended  not  to  hear  him. 

"Just  you  wait  till  to-morrow!"  said  the  Goblin. 

But  when  the  morning  came,  and  the  children  got  up,  the 
Tin  Soldier  was  placed  in  the  window ;  and  whether  it  was 
the  Goblin  or  the  draught  that  did  it,  all  at  once  the  window 
flew  open,  and  the  Soldier  fell  head  over  heels  out  of  the 
third  story.  That  was  a  terrible  passage!  He  put  his  leg- 
straight  up,  and  stuck  with  helm.et  downward  and  his  bayo- 
net between  the  paving-stones. 

The  servant-maid  and  the  little  boy  came  down  directly  to 
look  for  him,  but  though  they  almost  trod  upon  himi,  they 
could  not  see  him.  If  the  Soldier  had  cried  out  "Here  I 
am!"  they  would  have  found  him;  but  he  did  not  think  it  fit- 
ting to  call  out  loudly,  because  he  was  in  uniform. 

Now  it  began  to  rain;  the  drops  soon  fell  thicker,  and  at 
last  it  came  down  into  a  complete  stream.  ¥/hen  the  rain 
was  past,  two  street  boys  came  by. 

"Just  look!"  said  one  of  them,  "there  lies  a  Tin  Soldier. 
He  must  come  out  and  ride  in  the  boat.'' 

And  they  made  a  boat  out  of  a  newspaper,  and  put  the 
Tin  Soldier  in  the  middle  of  it,  and  so  he  sailed  down  the 
gutter,  and  the  two  boys  ran  beside  him  and  clapped  their 


78  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

hands.  Goodness  preserve  us!  how  the  waves  rose  in  that 
gutter,  and  how  fast  the  stream  ran !  But  then  it  had  been 
a  heavy  rain.  The  paper  boat  rocked  up  and  down,  and 
sometimes  turned  round  so  rapidly  that  the  Tin  Soldier 
trembled ;  but  he  remained  firm,  and  never  changed  counte- 
nance, and  looked  straight  before  him,  and  shouldered  his 
musket. 

All  at  once  the  boat  went  into  a  long  drain,  and  it  be- 
came as  dark  as  if  he  had  been  in  his  box. 

"Where  am  I  going  now?"  he  thought.  "Yes,  yes,  that's 
the  Goblin's  fault.  Ah !  if  the  little  lady  only  sat  here  with 
me  in  the  boat,  it  might  be  twice  as  dark  for  what  I  should 
care." 

Suddenly  there  came  a  great  Water  Rat,  which  lived  un- 
der the  drain. 

"Have  you  a  passport?"  said  the  Rat.  "Give  me  your 
passport." 

But  the  Tin  Soldier  kept  silence,  and  held  his  musket 
tighter  than  ever. 

The  boat  went  on,  but  the  Rat  came  after  it.  Hu!  how 
he  gnashed  his  teeth,  and  called  out  to  the  bits  of  straw  and 
wood. 

"Hold  him!  hold  him!  He  hasn't  paid  toll — he  hasn't 
shown  his  passport!" 

But  the  stream  became  stronger  and  stronger.  The  Tin 
Soldier  could  see  the  bright  daylight  where  the  arch  ended; 
but  he  heard  a  roaring  noise,  which  might  well  frighten  a 
bolder  man.  Only  think — just  where  the  tunnel  ended,  the 
drain  ran  into  a  great  canal;  and  for  him  that  would  have 
been  as  dangerous  as  for  us  to  be  carried  down  a  great 
waterfall. 

Now  he  was  already  so  near  it  that  he  could  not  stop.  The 
boat  was  carried  out,  the  poor  Tin  Soldier  stiffening  himself 
as  much  as  he  could,  and  no  one  could  say  that  he  moved  an 
eyelid.  The  boat  whirled  round  three  or  four  times,  and 
was  full  of  water  to  the  very  edge — it  must  sink.  The  Tin 
Soldier  stood  up  to  his  neck  in  water,  and  the  boat  sank 
deeper  and  deeper,  and  the  paper  was  loosened  more  and 
more;  and  now  the  water  closed  over  the  soldier's  head. 
Then  he  thought  of  the  pretty  little  Dancer,  and  how  he 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALE'S.  79 

should  never  see  her  again;  and  it  sounded  in  the  soldier's 
ears  : 

Farewell,  farewell,  thou  warrior  brave. 
For  this  day  thou  must  die! 

And  now  the  paper  parted,  and  the  Tin  Soldier  fell  out; 
but  at  that  moment  he  was  snapped  up  by  a  great  fish. 

Oh,  how  dark  it  was  in  that  fish's  body !  It  was  darker 
yet  than  in  the  drain  tunnel;  and  then  it  was  very  narrow 
too.  But  the  Tin  Soldier  remained  unmoved,  and  lay  at 
full  length  shouldering  his  musket. 

The  fish  swam  to  and  fro;  he  made  the  most  wonderful 
movements,  and  then  became  quite  still.  At  last  something 
flashed  through  him  like  lightning.  The  daylight  shone 
quite  clear,  and  a  voice  said  aloud,  "The  Tin  Soldier!"  The 
fish  had  been  caught,  carried  to  market,  bought,  and  taken 
mto  the  kitchen,  where  the  cook  cut  him  open  with  a  large 
knife.  She  seized  the  Soldier  round  the  body  with  both 
her  hands,  and  carried  him  into  the  room,  where  all  were 
anxious  to  see  the  remarkable  man  who  had  traveled  about 
in  the  inside  of  a  fish;  but  the  Tin  Soldier  was  not  at  all 
proud.  They  placed  him  on  the  table,  and  there — no! 
What  curious  things  may  happen  in  the  world.  The  Tin 
Soldier  was  in  the  very  room  in  which  he  had  been  before ! 
he  saw  the  same  children,  and  the  same  toys  stood  on  the 
table;  and  there  was  the  pretty  castle,  with  the  graceful  little 
Dancer.  She  was  still  balancing  herself  on  one  leg,  and 
held  the  other  extended  in  the  air.  She  was  hardy  too. 
That  moved  the  Tin  Soldier;  he  was  very  nearly  weeping 
tin  tears,  but  that  would  not  have  been  proper.  He  looked 
at  her,  but  they  said  nothing  to  each  other. 

_  Then  one  of  the  little  boys  took  the  Tin  Soldier  and  flung 
him  into  the  stove.  He  gave  no  reason  for  doing  this.  It 
must  have  been  the  fault  of  the  Goblin  in  the  snuff-box. 

The  Tin  Soldier  stood  there  quite  illuminated,  and  felt  a 
heat  that  was  terrible;  but  whether  this  heat  proceeded  from 
the  real  fire  or  from  love  he  did  not  know.  The  colors  had 
quite  gone  off  from  him;  but  whether  that  had  happened  on 
the  journey,  or  had  been  caused  by  grief,  no  one  could  say. 
He  looked  at  the  little  lady,  she  looked  at  him,  and  he  felt 
that  he  was  melting;  but  he  still  stood  firm,  shouldering 
his  musket.     Then  suddenly  the  door  flew  open,  and  the 


80  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

draught  of  air  caught  the  Dancer,  and  she  flew  Hke  a  sylph 
just  into  the  stove  to  the  Tin  Soldier,  and  flashed  up  in  a 
flame,  and  she  was  gone.  Then  the  Tin  Soldier  melted 
down  into  a  lump;  and  when  the  servant-maid  took  the 
ashes  out  next  day,  she  found  him  in  the  shape  of  a  little  tin 
heart.  But  of  the  Dancer  nothing  remained  but  the  tinsel 
rose,  and  that  was  burned  as  black  as  a  coal. 


THE  STORY  OF  A  MOTHER. 

A  Mother  sat  by  her  little  child;  she  was  very  sorrowful, 
and  feared  that  it  would  die.  Tcs  little  face  was  pale,  and  its 
eyes  were  closed.  The  child  drew  its  breath  with  difficulty, 
and  sometimes  so  deepl}'  as  if  it  were  sighing;  and  then  the 
mother  looked  more  sorrowfully  than  before  on  the  little 
creature. 

Then  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  a  poor  old  man 
came  in,  wrapped  up  in  something  that  looked  like  a  great 
horse-cloth,  for  that  keeps  warm;  and  he  required  it,  for  it 
was  cold  winter.  Without  everything  was  covered  with 
ice  and  snow,  and  the  wind  blew  so  sharply  that  it  cut  one's 
face. 

And  as  the  old  man  trembled  with  cold,  and  the  child  was 
quiet  for  a  mom.ent,  the  mother  v^'cnt  and  put  some  beer  on 
the  stove  in  a  little  pot,  to  warm_  it  for  him.  The  old  man 
sat  dov/n  and  rocked  the  cradle,  and  the  mother  seated  her- 
self on  an  old  chair  by  him,  looked  at  her  sick  child  that 
drew  its  breath  so  painfully,  and  seized  the  little  hand. 

"You  think  I  shall  keep  it,  do  you  not?"  she  asked.  ''The 
good  God  will  not  take  it  from  me !" 

And  the  old  man — he  was  Death — nodded  in  such  a 
strange  way,  that  it  might  just  as  well  mean  yes  as  no.  And 
the  mother  cast  down  her  eyes,  and  tears  rolled  down  her 
cheeks.  Her  head  became  heavy;  for  three  davs  and  three 
nights  she  had  not  closed  her  e^^es;  and  now  she  slept,  but 
onlv  for  a  minute;  then  she  started  up  and  shivered  with 
cold. 

"What  is  that?"  she  asked,  and  looked  round  on  all  sides; 
but  the  old  man  was  eone,  and  her  little  child  v/as  gone;  he 
had  taken  it  with  him.     And  there  in  the  corner  the  old 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  81 

clock  was  humming  and  whirring;  the  heavy  leaden  weight 
ran  down  to  the  lioor — plump ! — and  the  clock  stopped. 

But  the  poor  mother  rushed  out  of  the  house  crying  for 
her  child. 

Out  in  the  snow  sat  a  woman  in  long  black  garments,  and 
she  said,  "Death  has  been  with  you  in  your  room;  I  saw  him 
hasten  away  with  your  child;  he  strides  faster  than  the  wind, 
and  never  brings  back  what  he  has  taken  away." 

"Only  tell  me  which  way  he  has  gone,"  said  the  mother. 
"Tell  me  the  way,  and  I  will  find  him." 

"I  know  him,"  said  the  woman  in  the  black  garments; 
"but  before  I  tell  you,  you  must  sing  me  all  the  songs  that 
3'ou  have  sung  to  your  child.  I  love  those  songs;  I  have 
heard  them  before.  I  am  Night,  and  I  saw  your  tears  when 
you  sang  them." 

"I  will  sing  them  all,  all!"  said  the  mother.  "But  do  not 
detain  me,  that  I  may  overtake  him,  and  find  my  child." 

But  Night  sat  dumb  and  still.  Then  the  mother  wrung 
her  hands,  and  sang  and  wept.  And  there  were  many 
songs,  but  yet  more  tears,  and  then  Night  said,  "Go  to  the 
right  into  the  dark  fir  wood;  for  I  saw  Death  take  that  path 
with  your  little  child." 

Deep  in  the  forest  there  was  a  cross  road,  and  she  did  not 
know  which  way  to  take.  There  stood  a  Blackthorn  Bush, 
with  not  a  leaf  nor  a  blossom  upon  it;  for  it  was  in  the  cold 
winter-time,  and  icicles  hung  from  the  twigs. 

"Have  you  not  seen  Death  go  by,  with  my  little  child?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  Bush;  "but  I  shall  not  tell  you  which 
way  he  went  unless  you  warm  me  on  your  bosom.  I'm 
freezing  to  death  here.     I'm  turning  to  ice." 

And  she  pressed  the  Blackthorn  Bush  to  her  bosom,  quite 
close,  that  it  might  be  well  warmed.  And  the  thorns 
pierced  into  her  flesh,  and  her  blood  oozed  out  in  great 
drops.  But  the  Blackthorn  shot  out  fresh  green  leaves,  and 
blossomed  in  the  dark  winter  night,  so  warm  is  the  heart  of 
a  sorrowing  mother!  And  the  Blackthorn  Bush  told  her 
the  way  that  she  should  go. 

Then  she  came  to  a  great  Lake,  on  which  there  was 
neither  ships  nor  boat.  The  Lake  was  not  frozen  enough  to 
carry  her,  nor  sufficiently  open  to  allow  her  to  wade 
through,  and  yet  she  must  cross  it  if  she  was  to  find  her 
child.     Then  she  laid  herself  down  to  drink  the  Lake;  and 

6 


82  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

that  was  impossible  for  anyone  to  do.  But  the  sorrowing 
mother  thought  that  perhaps  a  miracle  might  be  wrought. 

"No,  that  can  never  succeed,"  said  the  Lake.  "Let  us 
rather  see  how  we  can  agree.  I'm  fond  of  collecting  pearls, 
and  your  eyes  are  the  two  clearest  I  have  ever  seen;  if  you 
will  weep  them  out  into  me  I  will  carry  you  over  into  the 
great  greenhouse,  where  Death  lives  and  cultivates  flowers 
and  trees;  each  of  these  is  a  human  life." 

"Oh,  what  would  I  not  give  to  get  my  child!"  said  the 
afflicted  mother;  and  she  wept  yet  more,  and  her  eyes  fell 
into  the  depths  of  the  Lake,  and  became  two  costly  pearls. 
But  the  Lake  lifted  her  up,  as  if  she  sat  in  a  swing,  and  she 
was  wafted  to  the  opposite  shore,  where  stood  a  wonderful 
house,  miles  in  length.  One  could  not  tell  if  it  was  a  moun- 
tain containing  forests  and  caves,  or  a  place  that  had  been 
built.  But  the  poor  mother  could  not  see  it,  for  she  had 
wept  her  eyes  out. 

"Where  shall  I  find  Death,  who  went  away  with  my  little 
child?"  she  asked. 

"He  has  not  arrived  here  yet,"  said  an  old  gray-haired 
woman,  who  was  going  about  and  watching  the  hothouse  of 
Death.  "How  have  you  found  your  way  here,  and  who 
helped  you?" 

"The  good  God  has  helped  me,"  she  replied.  "He  is 
merciful,  and  you  will  be  merciful,  too.  Where — where  shall 
I  find  my  little  child?" 

"I  do  not  know  it,"  said  the  old  woman,  "and  you  cannot 
see.  Many  flowers  and  trees  have  faded  this  night,  and 
Death  will  soon  come  and  transplant  them.  You  knov/ 
very  well  that  every  human  being  has  his  tree  of  life,  or 
his  flower  of  life,  just  as  each  is  arranged.  They  look  like 
other  plants,  but  their  hearts  beat.  Children's  hearts  can 
beat  too.  Think  of  this.  Perhaps  you  may  recognize  the 
beating  of  your  child's  heart.  But  what  will  you  give  me 
if  I  tell  you  what  more  you  must  do?" 

"I  have  nothing  more  to  give,"  said  the  afflicted  mother. 
"But  I  will  go  for  you  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.'' 

"I  have  nothing  for  you  to  do  there."  said  the  old  woman, 
"but  you  can  give  me  your  long  black  hair.  You  must 
know  yourself  that  it  is  beautiful,  and  it  pleases  me.     You 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  83 

can  take  my  white  hair  for  it,  and  that  is  always  some- 
thing." 

"Do  you  ask  for  nothing  more?"  asked  she.  "I  will  give 
you  that  gladly."  And  she  gave  her  beautiful  hair,  and  re- 
ceived in  exchange  the  old  woman's  white  hair. 

And  then  they  went  into  the  great  hothouse  of  Death 
where  flowers  and  trees  were  growing  marvelously  inter- 
twined. There  stood  the  fine  hyacinths  under  glass  bells, 
some  quite  fresh,  others  somewhat  sickly;  water  snakes 
were  twining  about  them,  and  black  crabs  clung  tightly  to 
the  stalks.  There  stood  gallant  palm  trees,  oaks,  and 
plantains,  and  parsley  and  blooming  thyme.  Each  tree  and 
flower  had  its  name;  each  was  a  human  life;  the  people  were 
still  alive,  one  in  China,  another  in  Greenland,  scattered 
about  in  the  world.  There  were  great  trees  thrust  into  little 
pots,  so  that  they  stood  quite  crowded,  and  were  nearly 
bursting  the  pots ;  there  was  also  many  a  little  weakly  flower 
in  rich  earth,  with  moss  round  about  it,  cared  for  and  tended. 
But  the  sorrowful  mother  bent  down  over  all  the  smallest 
plants,  and  heard  the  human  heart  beating  in  each,  and  out 
of  millions  she  recognized  that  of  her  child. 

"That  is  it!"  she  cried,  and  stretched  out  her  hands  over 
a  little  crocus  flower,  which  hung  down  quite  sick  and 
pale. 

"Do  not  touch  the  flower,"  said  the  old  dame;  "but  place 
yourself  here;  and  when  Death  comes — I  expect  him  every 
minute — then  don't  let  him  pull  up  the  plant,  but  threaten 
him  that  you  will  do  the  same  to  the  other  plants ;  then  he'll 
be  frightened.  He  has  to  account  for  them  all;  not  one 
may  be  pulled  up  till  he  receives  commission  from  Heaven." 

And  all  at  once  there  was  an  icy  cold  rush  through  the 
hall,  and  the  blind  mother  felt  that  Death  was  arriving. 

"How  did  you  find  your  way  hither?'"  said  he.  "How 
have  you  been  able  to  comiC  quicker  than  I?" 

"I  am  a  mother,"  she  answered. 

And  Death  stretched  out  his  long  hands  toward  the  little 
delicate  flower;  but  she  kept  her  hands  tight  about  it,  and 
held  it  fast;  and  yet  she  was  full  of  anxious  care  lest  he 
should  touch  one  of  the  leaves.  Then  Death  breathed  upon 
her  hands,  and  she  felt  that  his  breath  was  colder  than  the 
icy  wind;  and  her  hands  sank  down  powerless. 

"You  can  do  nothing  against  me,"  said  Death. 


84  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"But  the  merciful  God  can,"  she  repHed, 

''I  only  do  what  He  commands/'  said  Death,  "I  am  His 
gardener.  1  take  all  His  trees  and  flowers,  and  transplant 
them  into  the  great  Paradise  gardens,  in  the  unknown  land. 
But  how  they  will  flourish  there,  and  how  it  is  there,  I  may 
not  tell  you." 

"Give  me  back  my  child,"  said  the  mother;  and  she  im- 
plored and  wept.  All  at  once  she  grasped  two  pretty  flow- 
ers with  her  two  hands,  and  called  to  Death,  "I'll  tear  off  all 
your  flowers,  for  I  am  in  despair." 

"Do  not  touch  them,"  said  Death.  "You  say  you  are  so 
unhappy,  and  now  you  would  make  another  mother  just  as 
unhappy !" 

"Another  mother?"  said  the  poor  woman;  and  she  let  the 
flowers  go. 

"There  are  your  eyes  for  you,"  said  Death.  "I  have 
fished  them  out  of  the  lake ;  they  gleamed  up  quite  brightly. 
I  did  not  know  that  they  were  yours.  Take  them  back — 
they  are  clearer  now  than  before — and  then  look  down  into 
the  deep  well  close  by.  I  will  tell  you  the  names  of  the  two 
flowers  you  wanted  to  pull  up,  and  you  will  see  what  you 
were  about  to  frustrate  and  destroy." 

And  she  looked  down  into  the  well,  and  it  was  a  happiness 
to  see  how  one  of  them  became  a  blessing  to  the  world,  how 
much  joy  and  gladness  she  diffused  around  her.  And  the 
woman  looked  at  the  life  of  the  other,  and  it  was  made  up  of 
care  and  poverty,  misery  and  woe. 

"Both  are  the  will  of  God,"  said  Death. 

"Which  of  them  is  the  flower  of  misfortune,  and  which  the 
blessed  one?"  she  asked. 

"That  I  may  not  tell  you,"  answered  Death,  "but  this 
much  you  shall  hear;  that  one  of  these  two  flowers  is  that  of 
your  child.  It  was  the  fate  of  your  child  that  you  saw — the 
future  of  your  own  child." 

Then  the  mother  screamed  aloud  for  terror. 

"Which  of  them  belongs  to  my  child?  Tell  me  that! 
Release  the  innocent  child!  Let  mv  child  free  from  all  that 
misery!  Rather  carry  it  away!  Carry  it  into  God's  king- 
dom !  Forget  my  tears,  forget  my  entreaties,  and  all  that  I 
have  done!" 

"I  do  not  understand  you,''  said  Death.     "Will  you  have 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  85 

your  child  back,  or  shall  I  carry  it  to  that  place  that  you 
know  not?" 

Then  the  mother  wrung  her  hands,  and  fell  on  her  knees, 
and  prayed  to  the  good  God. 

"Hear  me  not  when  I  pray  against  Thy  will,  which  is  at 
all  times  the  best!  Hear  me  not!  hear  me  not!"  And  she 
let  her  head  sink  down  on  her  bosom. 

And  Death  went  away  with  her  child  to  the  unknown 
land. 


THE  DAISY. 


Now  you  shall  hear! 

Out  in  the  country,  close  by  the  roadside,  there  was  a 
country  house;  you  yourself  have  certainly  once  seen  it. 
Before  it  is  a  little  garden  with  flowers,  and  a  paling  which 
is  painted.  Close  by  it,  by  the  ditch,  in  the  midst  of  the 
most  beautiful  green  grass,  grew  a  little  Daisy.  The  sun 
shone  as  warmly  and  as  brightly  upon  it  as  on  the  great 
splendid  garden  flowers,  and  so  it  grew  from  hour  to  hour. 
One  morning  it  stood  in  full  bloom,  vv^ith  its  little  shining 
white  leaves  spreading  like  rays  round  the  little  yellow  sun 
in  the  center.  It  never  thought  that  no  man  would  notice 
it  down  in  the  grass,  and  that  it  was  a  poor  despised  flow- 
eret; no,  it  was  very  merry,  and  turned  to  the  warm  sun, 
looked  up  at  it,  and  listened  to  the  Lark  caroling  high  in 
the  air. 

The  little  Daisy  was  as  happy  as  if  it  were  a  great  holi- 
day, and  yet  it  was  only  Monday.  All  the  children  were 
at  school;  and  while  they  sat  on  their  benches  learning,  it 
sat  on  its  little  green  stalk,  and  learned  also  from  the  warm 
sun,  and  from  all  around,  how  good  God  is.  And  the 
Daisy  was  very  glad  that  everything  it  silently  felt  was  sung 
so  loudly  and  charmingly  by  the  Lark.  And  the  Daisy 
looked  up  with  a  kind  of  respect  to  the  happy  bird  who 
could  sing  and  fly ;  but  it  was  not  at  all  sorrowful  because  it 
could  not  fly  and  sing  also. 

"I  can  see  and  hear,"  it  thought;  "the  sun  shines  on  me, 
and  the  forest  kisses  me.  Oh,  how  richly  have  I  been 
gifted!" 

Within  the  palings  stood  many  stiff,  aristocratic  flowers — 


86  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

the  less  scent  they  had  the  more  they  flaunted.  The  peonies 
blew  themselves  out  to  be  greater  than  the  roses,  but  size 
will  not  do  it;  the  tulips  had  the  most  splendid  colors,  and 
they  knew  that,  and  held  themselves  bolt  upright,  that  they 
might  be  seen  more  plainly.  They  did  not  notice  the  little 
Daisy  outside  there,  but  the  Daisy  looked  at  them  the  more, 
and  thought,  "How  rich  and  beautiful  they  are!  Yes,  the 
pretty  birds  fly  across  to  them,  and  visit  them.  I  am  glad 
that  I  stand  so  near  them,  for  at  any  rate  I  can  enjoy  the 
sight  of  their  splendor!"  And  just  as  she  thought  that — ■ 
"keevit!" — down  came  flying  the  Lark,  but  not  down  to 
the  peonies  and  tulips — no,  down  into  the  grass  to  the  lowly 
Daisy,  which  started  so  with  joy  that  it  did  not  know  what 
to  think. 

The  little  bird  danced  round  about  it,  and  sang: 

"Oh,  how  soft  the  grass  is!  and  see  what  a  lovely  little 
flower,  with  gold  in  its  heart  and  silver  on  its  dress!" 

For  the  yellow  point  in  the  Daisy  looked  like  gold,  and 
the  little  leaves  around  it  shone  silvery  white. 

How  happy  was  the  little  Daisy — no  one  can  conceive 
how  happy!  The  bird  kissed  it  with  his  beak,  sang  to  it, 
and  then  flew  up  again  into  the  blue  air.  A  quarter  of  an 
hour  passed,  at  least,  before  the  Daisy  could  recover  itself. 
Half  ashamed,  and  yet  inwardly  rejoiced,  it  looked  at  the 
other  flowers  in  the  garden;  for  they  had  seen  the  honor 
and  happiness  it  had  gained,  and  mvist  understand  what  a 
joy  it  was.  But  the  tulips  stood  up  twice  as  stifY  as  before, 
and  they  looked  quite  peaky  in  the  face  and  quite  red,  for 
they  had  been  vexed.  The  peonies  were  quite  wrong- 
headed;  it  was  well  they  could  not  speak,  or  the  Daisy 
would  have  received  a  good  scolding.  The  poor  little 
flower  could  see  very  well  that  they  were  not  in  a  good 
humor,  and  that  hurt  it  sensibly.  At  this  moment  there 
came  into  the  garden  a  girl  with  a  great,  sharp,  shining 
knife;  she  went  straight  up  to  the  tulips,  and  cut  ofif  one 
after  another  of  them. 

"Oh!"  sighed  the  little  Daisy,  "this  is  dreadful;  now  it  is 
all  over  with  them." 

Then  the  girl  went  away  with  the  tulips.  The  Daisy  was 
glad  to  stand  out  in  the  grass,  and  to  be  only  a  poor  little 
flower.    It  felt  very  grateful;  and  when  the  sun  went  down 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  87 

it  folded  its  leaves  and  went  to  sleep,  and  dreamed  all 
night  long  about  the  sun  and  the  pretty  little  bird. 

Next  morning,  when  the  flower  again  happily  stretched 
out  all  its  white  leaves,  like  little  arms,  toward  the  air  and 
the  light,  it  recognized  the  voice  of  the  bird,  but  the  song  he 
was  singing  sounded  mournfully.  Yes,  the  poor  Lark  had 
good  reason  to  be  sad;  he  was  caught  and  now  sat  in  a  cage 
close  by  the  open  window.  He  sang  of  free  and  happy 
roaming,  sang  of  the  young  green  corn  in  the  fields,  and  of 
the  glorious  journey  he  might  make  on  his  wings  high 
through  the  air.  The  poor  Lark  was  not  in  good  spirits,  for 
there  he  sat  a  prisoner  in  a  cage. 

The  little  Daisy  wished  very  much  to  help  him.  But 
what  was  it  to  do?  Yes,  that  was  difficult  to  make  out.  It 
quite-  forgot  how  everything  v^^as  beautiful  around,  how- 
warm  the  sun  shone,  and  how  splendidly  white  its  own 
leaves  were.  Ah!  it  could  think  only  of  the  imprisoned 
bird,  and  how  it  was  powerless  to  do  anything  for  him. 

Just  then  two  little  boys  came  out  of  the  garden.  One 
of  them  carried  in  his  hand  the  knife  which  the  girl  had 
used  to  cut  oflf  the  tulips.  They  went  straight  up  to  the 
little  Daisy,  which  could  not  at  all  make  out  what  they 
wanted. 

"Here  we  may  cut  a  capital  piece  of  turf  for  the  Lark," 
said  one  of  the  boys;  and  he  began  to  cut  ofif  a  square 
patch  round  about  the  Daisy,  so  that  the  flower  remained 
standing  in  its  piece  of  grass. 

"Tear  ofif  the  flower!"  said  the  other  boy. 

And  the  Daisy  trembled  with  fear,  for  to  be  torn  ofif  would 
be  to  lose  its  life;  and  now  it  v^/anted  particularly  to  live,  as 
it  was  to  be  given  with  the  piece  of  turf  to  the  captive  Lark. 

"No,  let  it  stay,"  said  the  other  boy;  "it  makes  such  a 
nice  ornament." 

And  so  it  remained,  and  was  put  into  the  Lark's  cage. 
But  the  poor  bird  complained  aloud  of  his  lost  liberty,  and 
beat  his  wings  against  the  wires  of  his  prison;  and  the  little 
Daisy  could  not  speak — could  say  no  consoling  word  to 
him,  gladly  as  it  would  have  done  so.  And  thus  the  whole 
morning  passed. 

"Here  is  no  water,"  said  the  captive  Lark.  "They  are  all 
gone  out,  and  have  forgotten  to  give  me  anything  to  drink. 
My  throat  is  dry  and  burning.    It  is  like  fire  and  ice  within 


88  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

me,  and  the  air  is  close.  Oh,  I  must  die!  I  must  leave  the 
warm  sunshine,  the  fresh  green,  and  all  the  splendor  that 
God  has  created!" 

And  then  he  thrust  his  beak  into  the  cool  turf  to  refresh 
himself  a  little  with  it.  Then  the  bird's  eye  fell  upon  the 
Daisy,  and  he  nodded  to  it,  and  kissed  it  with  his  beak,  and 
said: 

"You  also  must  wither  in  here,  you  poor  little  fellow. 
They  have  given  you  to  me  with  a  little  patch  of  green 
grass  on  which  you  grow,  instead  of  the  whole  world  which 
was  mine  out  there!  Every  little  blade  of  grass  shall  be  a 
great  tree  for  me,  and  every  one  of  your  fragrant  leaves  a 
great  flower.    Ah,  you  only  tell  m^e  how  much  I  have  lost!" 

"If  I  could  only  comfort  him!"   thought  the  little  Daisy. 

It  could  not  stir  a  leaf;  but  the  scent  which  streamed 
forth  from  its  delicate  leaves  was  far  stronger  than  is  gen- 
erally found  in  these  flowers;  the  bird  also  noticed  that,  and 
though  he  was  fainting  with  thirst,  and  in  his  pain  plucked 
up  the  green  blades  of  grass,  he  did  not  touch  the  flower. 

The  evening  came,  and  yet  nobody  appeared  to  bring  the 
poor  bird  a  drop  of  water.  Then  he  stretched  out  his 
pretty  wings  and  beat  the  air  frantically  with  them;  his 
song  changed  to  a  mournful  piping,  his  little  head  sank 
down  toward  the  flower,  and  the  bird's  heart  broke  with 
want  and  yearning.  Then  the  flower  could  not  fold  its 
leaves,  as  it  had  done  on  the  previous  evening,  and  sleep; 
it  drooped,  sorrowful  and  sick,  toward  the  earth. 

Not  till  the  next  morning  did  the  boys  come;  and  when 
they  found  the  bird  dead  they  wept — wept  many  tears — and 
dug  him  a  neat  grave,  which  they  adorned  v/ith  leaves  of 
flowers.  The  bird's  corpse  was  put  in  a  pretty  red  box,  for 
he  was  to  be  royally  buried — the  poor  bird!  While  he  was 
alive  and  sang  they  forgot  him,  and  let  him  sit  in  his  cage 
and  suffer  want;  but  now  that  he  was  dead  he  had  adorn- 
ment and  many  tears. 

But  the  patch  of  turf  with  the  Daisy  on  it  was  thrown  out 
into  the  high  road;  no  one  thought  of  the  flower  that  had 
felt  the  most  for  the  little  bird,  and  would  have  been  so  glad 
to  console  him. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  89 


A  GREAT  GRIEF. 

This  story  really  consists  of  two  parts;  the  first  part 
might  be  left  out,  but  it  gives  us  a  few  particulars,  and  these 
are  useful. 

We  were  staying  in  the  country  at  a  gentleman's  seat, 
where  it  happened  that  the  master  was  absent  for  a  few  days. 
In  the  meantime  there  arrived  from  the  next  town  a  lady; 
she  had  a  pug  dog  with  her,  and  came,  she  said,  to  dis- 
pose of  shares  in  her  tanyard.  She  had  her  papers  with  her, 
and  we  advised  her  to  put  them  in  an  envelope,  and  to  write 
thereon  the  address  of  the  proprietor  of  the  estate,  "General 
War-Commissary  Knight,"  etc. 

She  listened  to  us  attentively,  seized  the  pen,  paused, 
and  begged  us  to  repeat  the  direction  slowly.  We  complied, 
and   she   wrote;    but   in   the  midst  of  the  "General   War 

"  she  stuck  fast,  sighed  deeply,  and  said,  "I  am 

only  a  woman !"  Her  Puggie  had  seated  itself  on  the  ground 
while  she  vv^rote,  and  growled;  for  the  dog  had  come  with 
her  for  amusement  and  for  the  sake  of  its  health;  and  then 
the  bare  floor  ought  not  to  be  offered  to  a  visitor.  His  out- 
ward appearance  was  characterized  by  a  snub  nose  and  a 
very  fat  back. 

"He  doesn't  bite,''  said  the  lady;  "he  has  no  teeth.  He 
is  like  one  of  the  family,  faithful  and  grumpy;  but  the  lat- 
ter is  my  grandchildren's  fault,  for  they  have  teased  him; 
they  play  at  wedding,  and  want  to  give  him  the  part  of  the 
bridesmaid,  and  that's  too  much  for  him,  poor  old  fellow." 

And  she  delivered  her  papers,  and  took  Puggie  upon  her 
arm.  And  this  is  the  first  part  of  the  story,  which  might 
have  been  left  out. 

Puggie  died !     That's  the  second  part. 

It  was  about  a  week  afterward  we  arrived  in  the  town, 
and  put  up  at  the  inn.  Our  windows  looked  into  the  tan- 
yard,  which  was  divided  into  tv/o  parts  by  a  partition  of 
planks;  in  one-half  v/ere  many  skins  and  hides,  raw  and 
tanned.  Here  was  all  the  apparatus  necessary  to  carry  on 
a  tannery,  and  it  belonged  to  the  widow.  Puggie  had  died 
in  the  morning,  and  was  to  be  buried  in  this  part  of  the 


90  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

yard;  the  grandchildren  of  the  widow  (that  is,  of  the  tan- 
ner's widow,  for  Puggie  himself  had  never  been  married) 
filled  up  the  grave,  and  it  was  a  beautiful  grave — it  must 
have  been  quite  pleasant  to  lie  there. 

The  grave  was  bordered  with  pieces  of  flower-pots  and 
strewn  over  with  sand;  quite  at  the  top  they  had  stuck  up 
half  a  beer  bottle,  with  the  neck  upward,  and  that  was  not 
at  all  allegorical. 

The  children  danced  round  the  grave,  and  the  eldest  of 
the  boys  among  them,  a  practical  youngster  of  seven  years, 
made  a  proposition  that  there  should  be  an  exhibition  of 
Puggie's  burial-place  for  all  who  lived  in  the  lane ;  the  price 
of  admission  was  to  be  a  trouser  button,  for  every  boy 
would  be  sure  to  have  one,  and  each  might  also  give  one 
for  a  little  girl.    This  proposal  was  adopted  by  acclamation. 

And  all  the  children  out  of  the  lane — yes,  even  out  of  the 
little  lane  at  the  back — flocked  to  the  place,  and  each  gave 
a  button.  Many  were  noticed  to  go  about  on  that  afternoon 
with  only  one  brace,  but  then  they  had  seen  Puggie's  grave, 
and  the  sight  was  worth  much  more. 

But  in  front  of  the  tanyard,  close  to  the  entrance,  stood  a 
little  girl  clothed  in  rags,  very  pretty  to  look  at,  with  curly 
hair,  and  eyes  so  blue  and  clear  that  it  was  a  pleasure  to 
look  into  them.  The  child  said  not  a  word,  nor  did  she  cry; 
but  each  time  the  little  door  was  opened  she  gave  a  long, 
long  look  into  the  yard.  She  had  not  a  button — that  she 
knew  right  well,  and  therefore  she  remained  standing  sor- 
rowfully outside,  till  all  the  others  had  seen  the  grave  and 
had  gone  away;  then  she  sat  down,  held  her  little  brown 
hands  before  her  eyes  and  burst  into  tears;  this  girl  alone 
had  not  seen  Puggie's  grave.  It  was  a  grief  as  great  to  her 
as  any  grown  person  can  experience. 

We  saw  this  from  above;  and,  looked  at  from  above,  how 
many  a  grief  of  our  own  and  of  others  can  make  us  smile! 
That  is  the  story,  and  whoever  does  not  understand  it  may 
go  and  purchase  a  share  in  the  tanyard  from  the  widow. 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  Si 


THE  SHIRT  COLLAR. 

There  was  once  a  rich  cavaHer  whose  whole  effects  con- 
sisted of  a  Bootjack  and  a  Hairbrush,  but  he  had  the  finest 
'Shirt  Collar  in  the  world,  and  about  this  Shirt  Collar  we  will 
tell  a  story. 

The  Collar  was  now  old  enough  to  think  of  marrying,  and 
it  happened  that  he  v/as  sent  to  the  wash  together  with  a 
Garter. 

"My  word!"  exclaimed  the  Shirt  Collar.  'T  have  never 
seen  anything  so  slender  and  delicate,  so  charming  and 
genteel.     May  I  ask  your  name?" 

'T  shall  not  tell  you  that,"  said  the  Garter. 

"Where  is  your  home?"  asked  the  Shirt  Collar. 

But  the  Garter  was  of  rather  a  retiring  nature,  and  it 
seemed  such  a  strange  question  to  answer. 

"I  presume  you  are  a  girdle?"  said  the  Shirt  Collar — "a 
sort  of  under-girdle?  I  see  that  you  are  useful  as  well  as 
ornamental,  my  little  lady." 

"You  are  not  to  speak  to  me,"  said  the  Garter.  "I  have 
not,  I  think,  given  you  any  occasion  to  do  so." 

"Oh !  when  one  is  as  beautiful  as  you  are,"  cried  the  Shirt 
Collar,  "I  fancy  that  is  occasion  enough." 

"Go!"  said  the  Garter;  "don't  come  so  near  me,  you  look 
to  me  quite  like  a  man." 

"I  am  a  fine  cavalier,  too,"  said  the  Shirt  Collar.  "I  pos- 
sess a  bootjack  and  a  hairbrush." 

And  that  was  not  true  at  all,  for  it  was  his  master  who 
owned  these  things,  but  he  was  boasting. 

"Don't  come  too  near  me,"  said  the  Garter;  "I  am  not 
used  to  that." 

"Affectation!"   cried  the  Shirt  Collar. 

And  then  they  were  taken  out  of  the  wash,  and  starched, 
and  hung  over  a  chair  in  the  sunshine,  and  then  laid  on 
the  ironing-board;    and  now  came  the  hot  Iron. 

"Mrs.  Widow!"  said  the  Shirt  Collar,  "little  Mrs.  Widow, 
I'm  getting  quite  warm;  I'm  being  quite  changed;  I'm 
losing  all  my  creases;  you're  burning  a  hole  in  me!  Ugh! 
I  propose  to  you." 


92  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"You  old  rag!"  said  the  Iron,  and  rode  proudly  over  the 
Shirt  Collar,  for  it  imagined  that  it  was  a  steam  boiler,  and 
that  it  ought  to  be  out  on  the  railway  dragging  carriages. 
"You  old  rag!"  said  the  Iron. 

The  Shirt  Collar  was  a  little  frayed  at  the  edges,  there- 
fore the  Paper  Scissors  came  to  smooth  away  the  frayed 
places. 

"Ho,  ho!"  said  the  Shirt  Collar;  "I  presume  you  are  a 
first-rate  dancer.  How  you  can  point  your  toes!  no  one  in 
the  world  can  do  that  like  you." 

"I  know  that,"   said  the  Scissors. 

"You  deserve  to  be  a  countess,"  said  the  Shirt  Collar. 
"All  that  I  possess  consists  of  a  genteel  cavalier,  a  bootjack, 
and  a  comb.    If  I  had  only  an  estate!" 

"What!  do  you  want  to  marry?"  cried  the  Scissors;  and 
they  were  angry,  and  gave  such  a  deep  cut  that  the  Collar 
had  to  be  cashiered. 

"I  shall  have  to  propose  to  the  Hairbrush,"  thought  the 
Shirt  Collar.  "It  is  wonderful  what  beautiful  hair  you  have, 
my  little  ladv.  Have  you  never  thought  of  engaging  your- 
self?" 

"Yes;  you  can  easily  imagine  that,"  replied  the  Hair- 
brush.   "I  am  engaged  to  the  Bootjack." 

"Engaged!"  cried  the  Shirt  Collar. 

Now  there  was  no  one  left  to  whom  he  could  offer  him- 
self, and  so  he  despised  love-making. 

A  long  time  passed,  and  the  Shirt  Collar  was  put  into  the 
sack  of  a  paper  dealer.  There  was  a  terribly  ragged  com- 
pany, and  the  fine  ones  kept  to  themselves,  and  the  coarse 
ones  to  them.selves,  as  is  right.  They  all  had  much  to  tell, 
but  the  Shirt  Collar  had  most  of  all,  for  he  was  a  terrible 
Jack  Brag. 

"I  have  had  a  tremendous  number  of  love  affairs,"  said 
the  Shirt  Collar.  "They  would  not  leave  me  alone;  but  I 
was  a  fine  cavalier,  a  starched  one.  I  had  a  bootjack  and 
a  hairbrush  that  I  never  used;  you  should  only  have  seen 
me  then,  when  I  was  turned  down.  I  shall  never  forget  my 
first  love;  it  was  a  girdle;  and  how  delicate,  how  charming, 
how  genteel  it  was!  And  my  first  love  threw  herself  into  a 
wash-tub,  and  all  for  me!  There  was  also  a  widow  des- 
perately fond  of  me,  but  I  let  her  stand  alone  till  she  turned 
quite  black.     Then  there  was  a  dancer,  who  gave  me  the 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  93 

wound  from  which  I  still  suffer — she  was  very  hot  tempered. 
My  own  hairbrush  was  in  love  with  me,  and  lost  all  her  hair 
from  neglected  love.  Yes,  I've  had  many  experiences  of 
this  kind;  but  I  am  most  sorry  for  the  Garter — I  mean  for 
the  girdle,  that  jumped  into  the  wash-tub  for  love  of  me. 
I've  a  great  deal  on  my  conscience.  It's  time  I  was  turned 
into  white  paper." 

And  to  that  the  Shirt  Collar  came.  All  the  rags  were 
turned  into  white  paper,  but  the  Shirt  Collar  became  the 
very  piece  of  paper  we  see  here,  and  upon  which  this  story 
has  been  printed,  and  that  was  done  because  he  boasted  so 
dreadfully  about  things  that  were  not  at  all  true.  And  this 
we  must  remember,  so  that  we  may  on  no  account  do  the 
same,  for  we  cannot  know  at  all  whether  we  shall  not  be 
put  into  the  rag  bag  and  manufactured  into  white  paper, 
on  which  our  whole  histor}^,  even  the  most  secret,  shall  be 
printed,  so  that  we  shall  be  obliged  to  run  about  and  tell  it, 
as  the  Shirt  Collar  did. 


OLE-LUK-OIE. 

There's  nobody  in  the  whole  world  who  knows  so  many 
stories  as  Ole-Luk-Oie.  He  can  tell  capital  histories.  To- 
ward evening,  when  the  children  still  sit  nicely  at  table, 
or  upon  their  stools,  Ole-Luk-Oie  comes.  He  comes  up 
the  stairs  quite  softly,  for  he  walks  in  his  socks;  he  opens 
the  door  noiselessly,  and  whisk!  he  squirts  sweet  miilk  in 
the  children's  eyes,  a  small,  small  stream,  but  enough  to 
prevent  them  from  keeping  their  eyes  open;  and  thus  they 
cannot  see  him.  He  creeps  just  among  them,  and  blows 
softly  upon  their  necks,  and  this  makes  their  heads  heavy. 
Yes,  but  it  doesn't  hurt  them,  for  Ole-Luk-Oie  is  very  fond 
of  the  children;  he  only  wants  them  to  be  quiet,  and  that 
they  are  not  until  they  are  taken  to  bed;  they  are  to  be  quiet 
in  order  that  he  may  tell  them  stories. 

When  the  children  sleep,  Ole-Luk-Oie  sits  down  upon 
their  bed.  He  is  well  dressed;  his  coat  is  of  silk,  but  it  is 
impossible  to  say  of  what  color,  for  it  shines  red,  green,  and 
blue,  according  as  he  turns.  Under  each  arm  he  carries 
an  umbrella;   the  one  with  pictures  on  it  he  spreads  over 


94  ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES. 

the  good  children,  and  then  they  dream  all  night  the  most 
glorious  stories;  but  on  his  other  umbrella  nothing  at  all 
is  painted;  this  he  spreads  over  the  naughty  children,  and 
these  sleep  in  a  dull  way,  and  when  they  awake  in  the  morn- 
ing they  have  not  dreamed  of  anything. 

Now  we  shall  hear  how  Ole-Luk-Oie,  every  evening 
through  one  whole  week,  came  to  a  little  boy  named  Hjal- 
mar,  and  what  he  told  him.  There  are  seven  stories,  for 
there  are  seven  days  in  the  week. 

MONDAY. 

"Listen,"  said  Ole-Luk-Oie  in  the  evening,  when  he  had 
put  Hjalmar  to  bed;  "now  I'll  clear  up." 

And  all  the  flowers  in  the  flower-pots  became  great  trees, 
stretching  out  their  long  branches  under  the  ceiling  of  the 
room  and  along  the  walls,  so  that  the  whole  room  looked 
just  like  a  beauteous  bower;  and  all  the  twigs  w^ere  cov- 
ered with  flowers,  and  each  flower  was  more  beautiful  than 
a  rose,  and  smelt  so  sweet  that  one  wanted  to  eat  it — it  was 
sweeter  than  jam.  The  fruit  gleamed  like  gold,  and  there 
were  cakes  bursting  with  raisins.  It  was  incomparably 
beautiful.  But  at  the  same  time  a  terrible  wail  sounded 
from  the  table  drawer,  where  Hjalmar  s  school-book  lay. 

"Whatever  can  that  be?"  said  Ole-Luk-Oie;  and  he  went 
to  the  table,  and  opened  the  drawer.  It  v^^as  the  slate,  which 
was  sulTering  from  convulsions,  for  a  wrong  number  had 
got  into  the  sum,  so  that  it  was  nearly  falling  in  pieces ;  the 
slate  pencil  tugged  and  jumped  at  its  string,  as  if  it  had  been 
a  little  dog  who  wanted  to  help  the  sum ;  but  he  could  not. 
And  thus  there  was  great  lamentation  in  Hjalmar's  copy- 
book; it  was  quite  terrible  to  hear.  On  each  page  the  great 
letters  stood  in  a  row,  one  beneath  the  other,  and  each  with 
a  little  one  at  its  side;  that  was  the  copy;  and  next  to  these 
were  a  few  more  letters  which  thought  they  looked  just  like 
the  first;  and  these  Hjalmar  had  written;  but  they  lay 
down  just  as  if  they  had  tumbled  over  the  pencil-lines  on 
which  they  were  to  stand. 

"See,  this  is  how  you  should  hold  yourself,"  said  the 
Copy.    "Look,  sloping  in  this  way,  with  a  powerful  swing!" 

"Oh,  we  shall  be  very  glad  to  do  that,"  replied  Hjalmar's 
Letters,  "but  we  cannot ;  we  are  too  weakly." 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES.  95 

"Then  you  must  take  medicine,"  said  Ole-Luk-Oie. 

"Oh,  no,"  cried  they;  and  they  immediately  stood  up  so 
gracefully  that  it  was  beautiful  to  behold. 

"Yes,  now  we  cannot  tell  any  stories,"  said  Ole-Luk-Oie; 
"now  I  must  exercise  them.  One,  two!  one,  two!''  and 
thus  he  exercised  the  Letters;  and  they  stood  quite  slen- 
der, and  as  beautiful  as  any  copy  can  be.  But  when  Ole- 
Luk-Oie  went  away,  and  Hjalmar  looked  at  them  next 
morning,  they  were  as  weak  and  miserable  as  ever. 

TUESDAY. 

As  soon  as  Hjalmar  was  in  bed,  Ole-Luk-Oie  touched  all 
the  furniture  in  the  bedroom  with  his  little  magic  squirt, 
and  they  immediately  began  to  converse  together,  and  each 
one  spoke  of  itself,  with  the  exception  of  the  spittoon, 
which  stood  silent,  and  was  vexed  that  they  should  be  so 
vain  as  to  speak  only  of  themselves,  and  think  only  of  them- 
selves, without  any  regard  for  him  who  stood  so  modesdy 
in  the  corner  for  everyone's  use. 

Over  the  chest  of  drawers  hung  a  great  picture  in  a  gilt 
frame — it  was  a  landscape.  One  saw  therein  large  old  trees, 
flowers  in  the  grass,  and  a  broad  river  which  flowed  round 
about  a  forest,  past  many  castles,  and  far  out  into  the  wide 
ocean. 

Ole-Luk-Oie  touched  the  painting  with  his  magic  squirt, 
arid  the  birds  in  it  began  to  sing,  the  branches  of  the  trees 
stirred,  and  the  clouds  began  to  move  across  it;  one  could 
see  their  shadows  ghde  over  the  landscape. 

Now  Ole-Luk-Oie  lifted  little  Hjalmar  up  to  the  frame, 
and  put  the  boy's  feet  into  the  picture,  just  in  the  high 
grass;  and  there  he  stood;  and  the  sun  shone  upon  him 
through  the  branches  of  the  trees.  He  ran  to  the  water, 
and  seated  himself  in  a  little  boat  which  lay  there;  it  was 
painted  red  and  white;  the  sails  gleamed  like  silver,  and  six 
swans,  each  with  a  gold  circlet  round  its  neck  and  a  bright 
blue  star  on  its  forehead,  drew  the  boat  past  the  great  wood, 
where  the  trees  tell  of  robbers  and  witches,  and  the  flowers 
tell  of  the  graceful  little  elves,  and  of  what  the  butterflies 
have  told  them. 

Gorgeous  fishes,  with  scales  like  silver  and  gold,  swam 
after  their  boat;   sometimes  they  gave  a  spring,  so  that  it 


96  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

splashed  in  the  water;  and  birds,  blue  and  red,  little  and 
great,  flew  after  them  in  two  long  rows;  the  gnats  danced, 
and  the  cockchafers  said,  "Boom!  boom!"  They  all  wanted 
to  follow  Hjalmar,  and  each  one  had  a  story  to  tell. 

That  was  a  pleasure  voyage.  Sometimes  the  forest  was 
thick  and  dark,  sometimes  like  a  glorious  garden  full  of 
sunlight  and  flowers;  and  there  were  great  palaces  of  glass 
and  of  marble;  on  the  balconies  stood  Princesses,  and 
these  were  all  little  girls  whom  Hjalmar  knew  well — he  had 
already  played  with  them.  Each  one  stretched  forth  her 
hand,  and  held  out  the  prettiest  sugar  heart  which  ever  a 
cake-woman  could  sell;  and  Hjalmar  took  hold  of  each 
sugar  heart  as  he  passed  by,  and  the  Princess  held  fast,  so 
that  each  of  them  got  a  piece — she  the  smaller  share,  and 
Hjalmar  the  larger.  At  each  palace  little  Princes  stood 
sentry.  They  shouldered  golden  swords,  and  caused  rais- 
ins and  tin  soldiers  to  shower  down;  one  could  see  that 
they  were  real  Princes.  Sometimes  Hjalmar  sailed  through 
forests,  sometimes  through  halls  or  through  the  midst  of  a 
town.  He  also  camiC  to  the  town  where  his  nurse  lived,  who 
had  always  been  so  kind  to  him;  and  she  nodded  and 
beckoned,  and  sang  the  pretty  verse  she  had  made  herself 
and  had  sent  to  Hjalmar: 

"I've  loved  thee,  and  kissed  thee,  Hjalmar,  dear  boy; 
I've  watched  thee  waking  and  sleeping: 
May  the  good  Lord  guard  thee  in  sorrow,  in  joy, 
And  have  thee  in  His  keeping." 

And  all  the  birds  sang  too,  the  flowers  danced  on  their 
stalks,  and  the  old  trees  nodded,  just  as  if  Ole-Luk-Oie  had 
been  telling  stories  to  them. 

WEDNESDAY. 

How  the  rain  was  streaming  down  without!  Hjalmar 
could  hear  it  in  his  sleep ;  and  when  Ole-Luk-Oie  opened  a 
window,  the  water  stood  quite  up  to  the  window-sill ;  there 
was  quite  a  lake  outside,  and  a  noble  ship  lay  close  by  the 
house. 

'Tf  thou  wilt  sail  with  me,  little  Hjalmar,"  said  Ole-Luk- 
Oie,  "thou  canst  voyage  to-night  to  foreign  climes,  and  be 
back  again  to-morrow." 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  97 

And  Hjalmar  suddenly  stood  in  his  Sunday  clothes  upon 
the  glorious  ship,  and  immediately  the  weather  became  fine, 
and  they  sailed  through  the  streets,  and  steered  round  by 
the  church;  and  now  everything  was  one  great,  wild  ocean. 
They  sailed  on  until  the  land  was  no  longer  to  be  seen,  and 
they  saw  a  number  of  storks,  who  also  came  from  their 
home,  and  were  traveling  toward  the  hot  countries;  these 
storks  flew  in  a  row,  one  behind  the  other,  and  they  had 
already  flown  far — far!  One  of  them  was  so  weary  that 
his  wings  would  scarcely  carry  him  farther;  he  was  the 
very  last  in  the  row,  and  soon  remained  a  great  way  behind 
the  rest ;  at  last  he  sank,  with  out-spread  wings,  deeper  and 
deeper;  he  gave  a  few  more  strokes  with  his  pinions,  but 
it  was  of  no  use;  now  he  touched  the  rigging  of  the  ship 
with  his  feet,  then  he  glided  down  from  the  sail,  and — 
bump! — he  stood  upon  the  deck. 

Now  the  cabin-boy  took  him  and  put  him  into  the  hen- 
coop with  the  Fowls,  Ducks,  and  Turkeys;  the  poor  Stork 
stood  among  them  quite  embarrassed. 

"Just  look  at  the  fellov/ !"  said  all  the  Fowls. 

And  the  Turkey-cock  swelled  himself  up  as  much  as  ever 
he  could,  and  asked  the  Stork  who  he  was ;  and  the  Ducks 
walked  backward  and  quacked  to  each  other,  "Quackery! 
quackery!" 

And  the  Stork  told  them  of  hot  Africa,  of  the  Pyramids, 
and  of  the  ostrich  which  runs  like  a  wild  horse  through  the 
desert;  but  the  ducks  did  not  understand  what  he  said,  and 
they  said  to  one  another: 

"We're  all  of  the  same  opinion,  namely,  that  he's  stupid.'' 

"Yes,  certainly  he's  stupid,"  said  the  Turkey-cock;  and 
he  gobbled. 

Then  the  Stork  was  quite  silent,  and  thought  of  his 
Africa. 

"Those  are  wonderful  thin  legs  of  yours,"  said  the  Tur- 
key-cock.   "Pray,  how  much  do  tliey  cost  a  yard?" 
.  "Quack!   quack!    qua-a-ck!"   grinned  all  the  Ducks;  but 
the  Stork  pretended  not  to  hear  it  at  all. 

"You  may  just  as  well  laugh,  too,"  said  the  Turkey-cock 
to  him,  "for  that  was  very  wittily  said.  Or  was  it,  perhaps, 
too  high  for  you?  Yes,  yes,  he  isn't  very  penetrating.  Let 
us  continue  to  be  interesting  among  ourselves.'' 

And  then  he  gobbled,  and  the  Ducks  quacked,  "Gick! 
1 


98  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

gack!  gick!  gack!"  It  was  terrible  how  they  made  fun 
among  themselves. 

But  Hjalmar  went  to  the  hen-coop,  opened  the  back 
door,  and  called  to  the  Stork ;  and  the  Stork  hopped  out  to 
him  on  to  the  deck.  Now  he  was  quite  rested,  and  it  seemed 
as  if  he  nodded  at  Hjalmar,  to  thank  him.  Then  he  spread 
his  wings,  and  flew  away  to  the  warm  countries;  but  the 
Fowls  clucked,  and  the  Ducks  quacked,  and  the  Turkey- 
cock  became  fiery  red  in  the  face. 

"To-morrow  we  shall  make  songs  of  you,"  said  Hjalmar; 
and  so  saying  he  awoke,  and  was  lying  in  his  linen  bed.  It 
was  a  wonderful  journey  that  Ole-Luk-Oie  had  caused  him 
to  take  that  night. 

THURSDAY. 

"I  tell  you  what,"  said  Ole-Luk-Oie,  "you  must  not  be 
frightened.  Here  you  shall  see  a.  little  Mouse,"  and  he  held 
out  his  hand  with  the  pretty  little  creature  in  it.  "It  has 
come  to  invite  you  to  a  wedding.  There  are  two  little  Mice 
here  who  are  going  to  enter  into  the  marriage  state  to-night. 
They  live  under  the  floor  of  your  mother's  store-closet;  that 
is  said  to  be  a  charming  dwelling  place!" 

"But  how  can  I  get  through  the  little  mouse-hole  in  the 
floor?"  asked  Hjalmar. 

"Let  me  manage  that,''  said  Ole-Luk-Oie.  "I  will  make 
you  small." 

•  And  he  touched  Hjalmar  with  his  magic  squirt,  and  the 
boy  began  to  shrink  and  shrink  and  shrink,  until  he  was  not 
so  long  as  a  finger. 

"Now  3^ou  may  borrow  the  uniform  of  a  tin  soldier.  I 
think  it  would  fit  you,  and  it  looks  well  to  wear  a  uniform 
when  one  is  in  society." 

"Yes,  certainly,"  said  Hjalmar. 

And  in  a  moment  he  was  dressed  like  the  spiciest  of  tin 
soldiers. 

"Will  your  honor  not  be  kind  enough  to  take  a  seat  in 
your  mamma's  thimble?"  asked  the  Mouse.  "Then  I  shall 
have  the  pleasure  of  drawing  you." 

"Will  the  young  lady  really  take  so  much  trouble?"  cried 
Hjalmar. 

And  thus  thev  drove  to  the  Mouse's  wedding.    First  thev 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES.  99 

came  into  a  long  passage  beneath  the  boards,  which  was 
only  just  so  high  that  they  could  drive  through  it  in  the 
thimble,  and  the  whole  passage  was  lit  up  with  rotten  wood. 

"Is  there  not  a  delicious  smell  here?''  observed  the 
Mouse.  "The  entire  road  has  been  greased  with  bacon- 
rinds,  and  there  can  be  nothing  more  exquisite." 

Now  they  came  into  the  festive  hall.  On  the  right  hand 
stood  all  the  little  lady  mice;  and  they  whispered  and  gig- 
gled as  if  they  were  making  fun  of  each  other;  on  the  left 
stood  all  the  gentlemen  mice,  stroking  their  whiskers  with 
their  forepaws ;  and  in  the  center  of  the  hall  the  bridegroom 
and  bride  might  be  seen  standing  in  a  hollow  cheese-rind, 
and  kissing  each  other  terribly  before  all  the  guests;  for 
this  was  the  betrothal,  and  the  marriage  was  to  follow  im- 
mediately. 

More  and  more  strangers  kept  flocking  in.  One  mouse 
was  nearly  treading  another  to  death ;  and  the  happy  couple 
'  had  stationed  themselves  just  in  the  little  door-way,  so 
that  one  could  neither  come  in  nor  go  out.  Like  the 
passage,  the  room  had  been  greased  with  bacon-rinds,  and 
that  was  the  entire  banquet;  but  for  the  dessert  a  pea  was 
produced,  in  which  a  mouse  belonging  to  the  famil}^  had  bit- 
ten the  name  of  the  betrothed  pair — that  is  to  say,  the  first 
letter  of  the  name;  that  was  something  quite  out  of  the 
common  way. 

All  the  mice  said  it  was  a  beautiful  wedding,  and  that  the 
entertainment  had  been  very  agreeable.  And  then  Hjalmar 
drove  home  again;  he  had  really  been  in  grand  company; 
but  he  had  been  obliged  to  crawl  through  a  mouse-hole,  to 
make  himself  little,  and  to  put  on  a  tin  soldier's  uniform. 

FRIDAY. 

"It  is  wonderful  how  many  grown-up  people  there  are 
who  would  be  very  glad  to  have  me!"  said  Ole-Luk-Oie; 
"especially  those  who  have  done  something  wrong.  'Good 
little  Ole,'  they  say  to  me,  'we  cannot  close  our  eyes,  and  so 
we  lie  all  night  and  see  our  evil  deeds,  which  sit  upon  the 
bedstead  like  ugly  little  goblins,  and  throw  hot  water  over 
us;  will  you  not  come  and  drive  them  away,  so  that  we 
may  have  a  good  sleep?' — and  then  they  sigh  deeply — 'We 
would  really  be  glad  to  pay  for  it.     Good-night,  Ole;   the 


100  ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES. 

money  lies  on  the  window-sill'  But  I  do  nothing  for 
money,"  says  Ole-Luk-Oie. 

"What  shall  we  do  this  evening?"  asked  Hjalmar. 

"I  don't  know  if  you  care  to  go  to  another  wedding  to- 
night. It  is  a  different  kind  from  that  of  yesterday.  Your 
sister's  great  doll,  that  looks  like  a  man,  and  is  called  Her- 
mann, is  going  to  marry  the  doll  Bertha.  Moreover,  it  is 
the  doll's  birthday,  and  therefore  they  will  receive  very  many 
presents." 

''Yes,  I  know  that,"  replied  Hjalmar.  "Whenever  the 
dolls  want  new  clothes,  my  sister  lets  them  either  keep  their 
birthday  or  celebrate  a  wedding;  that  has  certainly  hap- 
pened a  hundred  times  already." 

"Yes,  but  to-night  is  the  hundred  and  first  wedding;  and 
when  number  one  hundred  and  one  is  past,  it  is  all  over; 
and  that  is  why  it  will  be  so  splendid.    Only  look!" 

And  Hjalmar  looked  at  the  table.  There  stood  the  little 
cardboard  house  with  the  windows  illuminated,  and  in 
front  of  it  all  the  tin  soldiers  were  presenting  arms.  The 
bride  and  bridegroom  sat  quite  thoughtful,  and  with  good 
reason,  on  the  floor,  leaning  against  a  leg  of  the  table.  And 
Ole-Luk-Oie,  dressed  up  in  the  grandmother's  black  gown, 
married  them  to  each  other.  When  the  ceremony  was  over, 
all  the  pieces  of  furniture  struck  up  the  following  beautiful 
song,  which  the  pencil  had  written  for  them.  It  was  sung 
to  the  melody  of  the  soldiers'  tattoo: 

"Let  the  song  swell  like  the  rushing  wind, 
In  honor  of  those  who  this  day  are  joined, 
Although  they  stand  here  so  stiff  and  blind, 
Because  they  are  both  of  a  leathery  kind. 
Hurrah!  hurrah!  though  they're  deaf  and  blind, 
Let  the  song  swell  like  the  rushing  wind." 

And  now  they  received  presents — but  they  had  declined 
to  accept  provisions  of  any  kind,  for  they  intended  to  live  on 
love. 

"Shall  we  now  go  into  a  big  summer  lodging,  or  start 
on  a  journey?"   asked  the  bridegroom. 

And  the  Swallow,  who  was  a  great  traveler,  and  the  old 
yard  Hen,  who  had  brought  up  five  broods  of  chickens, 
were  consulted  on  the  subject.  And  the  Swallow  told  of  the 
beautiful    warm    climes,    where  the  grapes  hung  in  ripe. 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  101 

heavy  clusters,  where  the  air  is  mild,  and  the  mountains 
glow  with  colors  unknown  here. 

"But  you  have  not  our  brown  cole  there!"  objected  the 
Hen.  "I  was  once  in  the  country,  with  my  children,  in  one 
summer  that  lasted  five  weeks.  There  was  a  sand  pit,  in 
which  we  could  walk  about  and  scratch;  and  we  had  the 
entree  to  a  garden  where  brown  cole  grew;  it  was  so  hot 
there  that  one  could  scarcely  breathe.  And  then  we  have 
not  all  the  poisonous  animals  that  infest  these  warm  coun- 
tries of  yours,  and  we  are  free  from  robbers.  He  is  a  vil- 
lain who  does  not  consider  our  country  the  most  beautiful — 
he  certainly  does  not  deserve  to  be  here!"  And  then  the 
Hen  wept,  and  went  on:  "I  have  also  traveled.  I  rode  in 
a  coop  about  twelve  miles;  and  there  is  no  pleasure  at  all 
in  traveling!'' 

"Yes,  the  Hen  is  a  sensible  woman!"  said  the  doll 
Bertha.  'T  don't  think  anything  of  traveling  among  moun- 
tains, for  you  only  have  to  go  up  and  then  down  again.  No, 
we  will  go  into  the  sand-pit  beyond  the  gate,  and  walk  about 
in  the  cabbage  garden." 

And  so  it  was  settled. 

SATURDAY. 

"Am  I  to  hear  some  stories  now?"  asked  little  Hjalmar, 
as  soon  as  Ole-Luk-Oie  had  sent  him  to  sleep. 

"This  evening  we  have  no  time  for  that,"  replied  Ole- 
Luk-Oie;  and  he  spread  his  finest  umbrella  over  the  lad. 
"Only  look  at  these  Chinamen!" 

And  the  whole  umbrella  looked  like  a  great  China  dish, 
with  blue  trees  and  pointed  bridges  with  little  Chinamen 
upon  them,  who  stood  there  nodding  their  heads. 

"We  must  have  the  whole  world  prettily  decked  out  for 
to-morrow  morning,"  said  Ole-Luk-Oie,  "for  that  will  be  a 
holiday — it  will  be  Sunday.  I  will  go  to  the  church  steeples 
to  see  that  the  little  church  goblins  are  polishing  the  bells, 
that  they  may  sound  sweetly.  I  will  go  out  into  the  field, 
and  see  if  the  breezes  are  blowing  the  dust  from  the  grass 
and  leaves;  and,  what  is  the  greatest  work  of  all,  I  will 
bring  down  all  the  stars,  to  polish  them.  I  take  them  in  my 
apron;  but  first  each  one  must  be  numbered,  and  the  holes 
in  which  they  are  to  be  placed  up  there  must  be  numbered 


102  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

likewise,  so  that  they  may  be  placed  in  the  same  grooves 
again;  otherwise  they  would  not  sit  fast,  and  we  should 
have  too  many  shooting  stars,  for  one  after  another  would 
fall  down.'' 

"Hark  ye!  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Ole-Luk-Oie,"  remarked 
an  old  Portrait  which  hung  upon  the  wall  of  the  bedroom, 
where  Hjalmar  slept.  "I  am  Hjalmar's  great-grandfather! 
I  thank  you  for  telling  the  boy  stories;  but  you  must  not 
confuse  his  ideas.  The  stars  cannot  come  down  and  be  pol- 
ished! The  stars  are  world-orbs,  just  like  our  own  earth,  and 
that  is  just  the  good  thing  about  them." 

"I  thank  you,  old  great-grandfather,"  said  Ole-Luk-Oie, 
"I  thank  you !  You  are  the  head  of  the  family ;  you  are  the 
ancestral  head.  But  I  am  older  than  you!  I  am  an  old 
heathen;  the  Romans  and  Greeks  called  me  the  Dream 
God.  I  have  been  in  the  noblest  houses,  and  am  admitted 
there  still!  I  know  how  to  act  with  great  people  and  with 
small !  Now  you  may  tell  your  own  story !"  And  Ole-Luk- 
Oie  took  his  umbrella,  and  went  away. 

"Well,  well!  May  one  not  even  give  an  opinion  now- 
adays?"  grumbled  the  old  Portrait.    And  Hjalmar  awoke. 

SUNDAY. 

"Good-evening!"  said  Ole-Luk-Oie;  and  Hjalmar  nod- 
ded, and  then  ran  and  turned  his  great-grandfather's  Por- 
trait against  the  wall,  that  it  might  not  interrupt  them,  as  it 
had  done  yesterday. 

"Now  you  must  tell  me  stories — about  the  five  green  peas 
that  lived  in  one  shell,  and  about  the  cock's  foot  that  paid 
court  to  the  hen's  foot,  and  of  the  darning-needle  who  gave 
herself  such  airs  because  she  thought  herself  a  working- 
needle." 

"There  may  be  too  much  of  a  good  thing!"  said  Ole-Luk- 
Oie.  "You  know  that  I  prefer  showing  you  something.  I 
will  show  you  my  own  brother.  His  name,  like  mine,  is 
Ole-Luk-Oie,  but  he  never  comes  to  anyone  more  than 
once;  and  he  takes  him  to  whom  he  comes  upon  his  horse, 
and  tells  him  stories.  He  only  knows  two.  One  of  these 
is  so  exceedingly  beautiful  that  no  one  in  the  world  can  im- 
agine it,  and  the  other  so  horrible  and  dreadful  that  it  cannot 
be  described." 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  103 

And  then  Ole-Liik-Oie  lifted  little  Hjalmar  up  to  the  win- 
dow, and  said: 

"There  you  will  see  my  brother,  the  other  Ole-Luk-Oie. 
They  also  call  him  Death!  Do  you  see?  He  does  not  look 
so  terrible  as  they  make  him  in  the  picture-books,  where 
he  is  only  a  skeleton.  No,  that  is  silver  embroidery  that  he 
has  on  his  coat;  that  is  a  splendid  hussar's  uniform;  a 
mantle  of  black  velvet  flies  behind  him  over  the  horse. 
See  how  he  gallops  along!"' 

And  Hjalmar  saw  how  this  Ole-Luk-Oie  rode  away,  and 
took  young  people  as  well  as  old  upon  his  horse.  Some  of 
'them  he  put  before  him,  and  some  behind;  but  he  always 
asked  first — "How  stands  it  with  the  mark-book?"  "Well," 
they  all  replied.  "Yes,  let  me  see  it  myself,''  he  said.  And 
then  each  one  had  to  show  him  the  book;  and  those  who 
had  "very  well"  and  "remarkably  well"  written  in  their 
books,  were  placed  in  front  of  his  horse,  and  a  lovely  story 
was  told  to  them;  while  those  who  had  "middling"  or  "tol- 
erably well,"  had  to  sit  up  behind,  and  hear  a  very  terrible 
story  indeed.  They  trembled  and  wept,  and  wanted  to  jump 
off  the  horse,  but  this  they  could  not  do,  for  they  had  all, 
as  it  were,  grown  fast  to  it. 

"But  Death  is  a  most  splendid  Ole-Luk-Oie,"  said  Hjal- 
mar.   "I  am  not  afraid  of  him!" 

"Nor  need  you  be,"  replied  Ole-Luk-Oie;  "but  see  that 
you  have  a  good  mark-book!" 

"Yes,  that  is  improving!"  muttered  the  great-grand- 
father's Picture.  'Tt  is  of  some  use  giving  one's  opinion." 
And  now  he  was  satisfied. 

You  see,  that  is  the  story  of  Ole-Luk-Oie;  and  now  he 
may  tell  you  more  himself,  this  evening! 


THE  BEETLE. 

The  Emperor's  favorite  horse  was  shod  with  gold.  It  had 
a  golden  shoe  on  each  of  its  feet. 

And  why  was  this? 

He  was  a  beautiful  creature,  with  delicate  legs,  bright,  in- 
telligent eyes,  and  a  mane  that  hung  down  over  his  neck 
like  a  veil.    He  had  carried  his  master  through  the  fire  and 


104  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

smoke  of  battle,  and  heard  the  bullets  whistling  around 
him,  had  kicked,  bitten,  and  taken  part  in  the  fight  when 
the  enemy  advanced,  and  had  sprung  with  his  master  on  his 
back  over  the  fallen  foe,  and  had  saved  the  crown  of  red 
gold,  and  the  life  of  the  Emperor,  which  was  even  more  val- 
uable than  the  red  gold;  and  that  is  why  the  Emperor's 
horse  had  golden  shoes. 

And  a  Beetle  came  creeping  forth. 

"First  the  great  ones,"  said  he,  "and  then  the  little  ones ; 
but  greatness  is  not  the  only  thing  that  does  it."  And  so 
saying,  he  stretched  out  his  thin  legs. 

"And  pray  what  do  you  want?"  asked  the  smith. 

"Golden  shoes,  to  be  sure,"  replied  the  Beetle. 

"Why,  you  must  be  out  of  your  senses!"  cried  the  smith. 
"Do  you  want  to  have  golden  shoes,  too?" 

"Golden  shoes?  Certainly,"  replied  the  Beetle.  "Am  I 
not  just  as  good  as  that  big  creature  yonder,  that  is  waited 
on,  and  brushed,  and  has  meat  and  drink  put  before  him? 
Don't  I  belong  to  the  imperial  stable?" 

"But  why  is  the  horse  to  have  golden  shoes?  Don't  you 
understand  that?"  asked  the  smith. 

"Understand?  I  understand  that  it  is  a  personal  slight 
offered  to  m.yself,"  cried  the  Beetle.  "It  is  done  to  annoy 
me,  and  therefore  I  am  going  into  the  world  to  seek  my 
fortune." 

"Go  along!"   said  the  smith. 

"You're  a  rude  fellow!"  cried  the  Beetle;  and  then  he 
went  out  of  the  stable,  flew  a  little  way,  and  soon  afterward 
found  himself  in  a  beautiful  flower  garden,  all  fragrant  with 
roses  and  lavender. 

"Is  it  not  beautiful  here?"  asked  one  of  the  little  Ladv- 
Birds  that  flew  about,  with  their  delicate  wings  and  their 
red  and  black  shields  on  their  backs.  "How  sweet  it  is 
here — hovv^  beautiful  it  is !" 

"I'm  accustomed  to  better  things,"  said  the  Beetle.  "Do 
you  call  this  beautiful?  Why,  there  is  not  so  much  as  a 
dung-heap.'' 

Then  he  went  on,  under  the  shadow  of  a  great  stack,  and 
found  a  Caterpillar  crawling  along. 

"How  beautiful  the  world  is!"  said  the  Caterpillar;  "the 
sun  is  so  warm,  and  everything  so  enjoyable!  And  when  I 
go  to  sleep,  and  die,  as  they  call  it,  I  shall  wake  up  as  a 
butterfly,  with  beautiful  wings  to  fly  with." 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  105 

■'How  conceited  you  are!"  exclaimed  the  Beetle.  "You 
fly  about  as  a  butterfly,  indeed!  I've  come  out  of  the  stable 
of  the  Emperor,  and  no  one  there — not  even  the  Emperor's 
favorite  horse,  that,  by  the  way,  wears  my  cast-off  golden 
shoes — has  any  such  idea.  To  have  wings  to  fly!  Why,  we 
can  fly  now."  And  he  spread  his  wings  and  flew  away.  "I 
don't  want  to  be  annoyed,  and  yet  I  am  annoyed,"  he  said, 
as  he  flew  ofif. 

Soon  afterward  he  fell  down  upon  a  great  lawn.  For 
awhile  he  lay  there  and  feigned  slumber;  at  last  he  really  fell 
asleep  in  earnest. 

Suddenly  a  heavy  shower  of  rain  came  falling  from  the 
clouds.  The  Beetle  woke  up  at  the  noise,  and  wanted  to 
escape  into  the  earth,  but  could  not.  He  was  tumbled  over 
and  over;  sometimes  he  was  swimming  on  his  stomach, 
sometimes  on  his  back,  and  as  for  flying,  that  was  out  of  the 
question;  he  doubted  whether  he  should  escape  from  the 
place  with  his  life.  He  therefore  remained  lying  where  he 
was. 

When  the  weather  had  moderated  a  little,  and  the  Beetle 
had  rubbed  the  water  out  of  his  eyes,  he  saw  something 
gleaming.  It  was  linen  that  had  been  placed  there  to 
bleach.  He  managed  to  make  his  way  up  to  it,  and  crept 
into  a  fold  of  the  damp  linen.  Certainly  the  place  was  not 
so  comfortable  to  lie  in  as  the  warm  stable ;  but  there  was 
no  better  to  be  had,  and  therefore  he  remained  lying  there 
for  a  whole  day  and  a  whole  night,  and  the  rain  kept  on 
during  all  the  time.  Toward  morning  he  crept  forth;  he 
was  very  much  out  of  temper  about  the  climate. 

On  the  linen  two  Frogs  were  sitting.  Their  bright  eyes 
absolutely  gleamed  with  pleasure. 

"Wonderful  weather  this!"  one  of  them  cried.  "How 
refreshing!  And  the  linen  keeps  the  water  together  so 
beautifully.  My  hind  legs  seem  to  quiver  as  if  I  were  going 
to  swim.'' 

"I  should  like  to  know,"  said  the  second,  "if  the  swallow, 
who  flies  so  far  round,  in  her  many  journeys  in  foreign 
lands,  ever  meets  with  a  better  climate  than  this.  What  de- 
licious dampness!  It  is  really  as  if  one  were  lying  in  a  wet 
ditch.  Whoever  does  not  rejoice  in  this,  certainly  does  not 
love  his  fatherland." 

"Have  you  been  in  the  Emperor's  stable?"    asked  the 


106  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

Beetle;  "there  the  dampness  is  warm  and  refreshing. 
That's  the  chmate  for  me;  but  I  cannot  take  it  with  me  on 
my  journey.  Is  there  never  a  muck-heap,  here  in  the  gar- 
den, where  a  person  of  rank,  like  myself,  can  feel  himself 
at  home,  and  take  up  his  quarters?" 

But  the  Frogs  either  did  not  or  would  not  understand 
him. 

"I  never  ask  a  question  twice!"  said  the  Beetle,  after  he 
had  already  asked  this  one  three  times  without  receiving 
any  answer. 

Then  he  went  a  little  farther,  and  stumbled  against  a 
fragment  of  pottery,  that  certainly  ought  not  to  have  been 
lying  there ;  but  as  it  was  once  there,  it  gave  a  good  shelter 
against  wind  and  weather.  Here  dwelt  several  families  of 
Earwigs;  and  these  did  not  require  much,  only  sociality. 
The  female  members  of  the  community  were  full  of  the  pur- 
est maternal  aiTection,  and,  accordingly,  each  one  consid- 
ered her  own  child  the  most  beautiful  and  cleverest  of  all. 

"Our  son  has  engaged  himself,"  said  one  mother.  "Dear, 
innocent  boy!  His  greatest  hope  is  that  he  may  creep  one 
day  into  a  clergyman's  ear.  It's  very  artless  and  lovable, 
that;  and  being  engaged  will  keep  him  steady.  What  joy 
for  a  mother!" 

"Our  son,"  said  another  mother,  "had  scarcely  crept  out 
of  the  egg,  when  he  was  alread)^  ofif  on  his  travels.  He's  all 
life  and  spirits;  he'll  run  his  horns  oIt!  What  joy  that  is 
for  a  mother!  Is  it  not  so,  Mr.  Beetle?''  for  she  knew  the 
stranger  by  his  horny  coat. 

"You  are  both  quite  right,"  said  he;  so  they  begged  him 
to  walk  in;  that  is  to  say,  to  come  as  far  as  he  could  under 
the  bit  of  pottery. 

"Now  you  also  see  my  little  earwig,"  observed  a  third 
mother  and  a  fourth;  "they  are  lovely  little  things,  and 
highl}^  amusing.  They  are  never  ill-behaved,  except  when 
they  are  uncomfortable  in  their  inside;  but,  unfortunately, 
one  is  very  subject  to  that  at  their  age." 

Thus  each  mother  spoke  of  her  baby;  and  the  babies 
talked  among  themselves,  and  made  use  of  the  little  nippers 
they  have  in  their  tails  to  nip  the  beard  of  the  Beetle. 

"Yes,  they  are  always  busy  about  something,  the  little 
rogues!"    said  the  mothers;    and  they  quite  beamed  with 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  107 

maternal  .pride;  but  the  Beetle  felt  bored  by  that,  and  there- 
fore he  inquired  how  far  it  was  to  the  nearest  muck-heap. 

"That  is  quite  out  in  the  big  world,  on  the  other  side  of 
the  ditch,"  answered  an  Earwig.  "I  hope  none  of  my  chil- 
dren will  go  so  far,  for  it  would  be  the  death  of  me." 

"But  I  shall  try  to  get  so  far,"  said  the  Beetle;  and  he 
went  off  without  taking  formal  leave;  for  that  is  considered 
the  polite  thing  to  do.  And  by  the  ditch  he  met  several 
friends;    Beetles,  all  of  them. 

"Here  we  live,"  they  said.  "We  are  very  comfortable 
here.  Might  we  ask  you  to  step  down  into  this  rich  mud? 
You  must  be  fatigued  after  your  journey." 

"Certainly,"  replied  the  Beetle.  "I  have  been  exposed 
to  the  rain,  and  have  had  to  lie  upon  linen,  and  cleanliness 
is  a  thing  that  greatly  exhavists  me.  I  have  also  pains  in 
one  of  my  wings,  from  standing  in  a  draught  under  a  frag- 
ment of  pottery.  It  is  really  quite  refreshing  to  be  among 
one's  companions  once  more." 

"Perhaps  you  come  from  a  muck-heap?"  observed  the 
oldest  of  them. 

"Indeed,  I  come  from  a  much  higher  place,"  replied  the 
Beetle.  "I  come  from  the  Emperor's  stable,  where  I  was 
born  with  golden  shoes  on  my  feet.  I  am  traveling  on  a 
secret  embassy.  You  must  not  ask  me  any  questions,  for  I 
can't  betray  my  secret." 

With  this  the  little  Beetle  stepped  down  into  the  rich 
mud.  There  sat  three  young  maiden  Beetles;  and  they  tit- 
tered, because  they  did  not  know  what  to  say. 

"Not  one  of  them  is  engaged  yet,"  said  their  mother;  and 
the  Beetle  maidens  tittered  again,  this  time  from  embarrass- 
ment. 

"I  have  never  seen  greater  beauties  in  the  royal  stables," 
exclaimed  the  Beetle,  who  was  now  resting  himself. 

"Don't  spoil  my  girls,"  said  the  mother;  "and  don't  talk 
to  them,  please,  unless  you  have  serious  intentions.  But  of 
course  your  intentions  are  serious,  and  therefore  I  give  you 
my  blessing." 

"Hurrah!''  cried  all  the  other  Beetles  together;  and  our 
friend  was  engaged.  Immediately  after  the  betrothal  came 
the  marriage,  for  there  was  no  reason  for  delay. 

The  following  day  passed  very  pleasantly,  and  the  next  in 


108  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALEiS. 

tolerable  comfort;  but  on  the  third  it  was  time  to  think  of 
food  for  the  wife,  and  perhaps  also  for  children. 

"I  have  allowed  myself  to  be  taken  in,"  said  our  Beetle  to 
himself.  "And  now  there's  nothing  for  it  but  to  take  them 
in,  in  turn." 

So  said,  so  done.  Away  he  went,  and  he  stayed  away  all 
day,  and  stayed  away  all  night;  and  his  wife  sat  there,  a  for- 
saken widow. 

"Oh,"  said  the  other  Beetles,  "this  fellow  whom  we  re- 
ceived into  our  family  is  nothing  more  than  a  thorough 
vagabond.  He  is  gone  away,  and  has  left  his  wife  a  burden 
upon  our  hands." 

"Well,  then,  she  shall  be  unmarried  again,  and  sit  here 
among  my  daughters,"  said  the  mother.  "Fie  on  the  villain 
who  forsook  her!" 

In  the  meantime  the  Beetle  had  been  journeying  on,  and 
had  sailed  across  the  ditch  on  a  cabbage-leaf.  In  the  morn- 
ing two  persons  came  to  the  ditch.  When  they  saw  him, 
they  took  him  up,  and  turned  him  over  and  over,  and 
looked  ver}^  learned,  especially  one  of  them — a  boy. 

"Allah  sees  the  black  beetle  in  the  black  stone  and  in  the 
black  rock.  Is  not  that  written  in  the  Koran?''  Then  he 
translated  the  Beetle's  name  into  Latin,  and  enlarged  upon 
the  creature's  nature  and  history.  The  second  person,  an 
older  scholar,  voted  for  carrying  him  home.  He  said  they 
wanted  just  such  good  specimens;  and  this  seemed  an  im- 
civil  speech  to  our  Beetle,  and  in  consequence  he  flew  sud- 
denly out  of  the  speaker's  hand.  As  he  had  now  dry  wings, 
he  flew  a  tolerable  distance,  and  reached  a  hotbed,  where  a 
sash  of  the  glass  roof  was  partly  open,  so  he  quietly  slipped 
in  and  buried  himself  in  the  warm  earth. 

"Very  comfortable  it  is  here,"  said  he. 

Soon  after  he  went  to  sleep,  and  dreamed  that  the  Em- 
peror's favorite  horse  had  fallen,  and  had  given  him  his 
golden  shoes,  with  the  promise  that  he  should  have  two 
more. 

That  was  all  very  charming.  When  the  Beetle  woke  up, 
he  crept  forth  and  looked  around  him.  What  splendor  was 
in  the  hothouse!  In  the  background  great  palm  trees  grow- 
ing up  on  high;  the  sun  m.ade  them  look  transparent;  and 
beneath  them  what  a  luxuriance  of  green,  and  of  beaming 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY   TALES,  109 

flowers,  red  as  fire,  yellow  as  amber,  or  white  as  fresh- 
fallen  snow! 

"This  is  an  incomparable  plenty  of  plants,"  cried  the 
Beetle.  "How  good  they  will  taste  when  they  are  decayed! 
A  capital  storeroom  this !  There  must  certainly  be  relations 
of  mine  living  here.  I  will  just  see  if  I  can  find  anyone 
with  whom  I  may  associate.  I'm  proud,  certainly,  and  I'm 
proud  of  being  so." 

And  so  he  prowled  about  in  the  earth,  and  thought  what  a 
pleasant  dream  that  was  about  the  dying  horse,  and  the 
golden  shoes  he  had  inherited. 

Suddenly  a  hand  seized  the  Beetle,  and  pressed  him,  and 
turned  him  round  and  round. 

The  gardener's  little  son  and  a  companion  had  come  to 
the  hotbed,  and  espied  the  Beetle,  and  wanted  to  have  their 
fun  with  him.  First  he  was  wrapped  in  a  vine-leaf,  and 
then  put  into  a  warm  trousers  pocket.  He  cribbled  and 
Grabbled  about  there  with  all  his  might;  but  he  got  a  good 
pressing  from  the  boy's  hand  for  this,  which  served  as  a 
hint  to  him  to  keep  quiet.  Then  the  boy  went  rapidly  to- 
ward the  great  lake  that  lay  at  the  end  of  the  garden.  Here 
the  Beetle  was  put  in  an  old  broken  wooden  shoe,  on  which 
a  little  stick  was  placed  upright  for  a  mast,  and  to  this  mast 
the  Beetle  was  bound  with  a  v\^oolen  thread.  Now  he  was  a 
sailor,  and  had  to  sail  away. 

The  lake  was  not  very  large,  but  to  the  Beetle  it  seemed 
an  ocean ;  and  he  was  so  astonished  at  its  extent,  that  he  fell 
over  on  his  back  and  kicked  out  with  his  legs. 

The  little  ship  sailed  away.  The  current  of  the  water 
seized  it;  but  whenever  he  went  too  far  from  the  shore, 
one  of  the  boys  turned  up  his  trousers  and  went  in  after  it, 
and  brought  it  back  to  the  land.  But  at  length,  just  as  it 
went  merrily  out  again,  the  two  boys  were  called  away,  and 
very  harshly,  so  that  they  hurried  to  obey  the  summons, 
ran  away  from  the  lake,  and  left  the  little  ship  to  its  fate. 
Thus  it  drove  away  from  the  shore,  farther  and  farther  into 
the  open  sea;  it  was  terrible  work  for  the  Beetle,  for  he 
could  not  get  away  in  consequence  of  being  bound  to  the 
mast. 

Then  a  Fly  came  and  paid  him  a  visit. 

"What  beautiful  weather!"  said  the  Fly.  "I'll  rest  here, 
and  sun  myself.    You  have  an  agreeable  time  of  it." 


110  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"You  speak  without  knowing  the  facts,"  repHed  the 
Beetle.     "Don't  you  see  that  I'm  a  prisoner?" 

"Ah!  but  I'm  not  a  prisoner,"  observed  the  Fly;  and  he 
flew  away  accordingly. 

"Well,  now  I  know  the  world,"  said  the  Beetle  to  him- 
self. "It  is  an  abominable  world.  I'm  the  only  honest  per- 
son in  it.  First,  they  refuse  me  my  golden  shoes;  then  I 
have  to  lie  on  v/et  linen,  and  to  stand  in  the  draught;  and, 
to  crown  all,  they  fasten  a  wife  upon  me.  Then,  when  I've 
taken  a  quick  step  out  into  the  world,  and  found  out  how 
one  can  have  it  there,  and  how  I  wished  to  have  it,  one  of 
those  human  boys  comes  and  ties  me  up,  and  leaves  me  to 
the  mercy  of  the  wild  waves,  while  the  Emperor's  horse 
prances  about  proudly  in  golden  shoes.  That  is  what  an- 
noys me  more  than  all.  But  one  must  not  look  for  sympa- 
thy in  this  world!  My  career  has  been  very  interesting;  but 
what's  the  use  of  that,  if  nobody  knows  it?  The  world  does 
not  deserve  to  be  made  acquainted  with  my  history,  for  it 
ought  to  have  given  me  golden  shoes,  when  the  Emperor's 
horse  was  shod,  and  I  stretched  out  my  feet  to  be  shod,  too. 
If  I  had  received  golden  shoes,  I  should  have  been  an 
ornament  to  the  stable.  Now  the  stable  has  lost  me,  and 
the  world  has  lost  me.    It  is  all  over!" 

But  all  was  not  over  yet.  A  boat,  in  which  there  were  a 
few  young  girls,  came  rowing  up. 

"Look,  yonder  is  an  old  wooden  shoe  sailing  along," 
said  one  of  the  girls. 

"There's  a  little  creature  bound  fast  to  it,"  said  another. 

The  boat  came  quite  close  to  the  Beetle's  ship,  and  the 
young  girls  fished  him  out  of  the  water.  One  of  them  drew 
a  small  pair  of  scissors  from  her  pocket,  and  cut  the  woolen 
thread,  without  hurting  the  Beetle;  and  when  she  stepped 
on  shore,  she  put  him  down  on  the  grass. 

"Creep,  creep — y,  fly — if  thou  canst,"  she  said.  "Liberty 
is  a  splendid  thing." 

And  the  Beetle  flew  up,  and  straight  through  the  open 
window  of  a  great  building;  there  he  sank  down,  tired  and 
exhausted,  exactly  on  the  mane  of  the  Emperor's  favorite 
horse,  who  stood  in  the  stable  when  he  was  at  home,  and 
the  Beetle  also.  The  Beetle  clung  fast  to  the  mane,  and  sat 
there  a  short  time  to  recover  himself. 

"Here  I'm  sitting  on  the  Emperor's  favorite  horse — sit- 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  Ill 

ting  on  him  just  like  the  Emperor  himself!"  he  cried.  "But 
what  was  I  saying?  Yes,  now  I  remember.  That's  a  good 
thought,  and  quite  correct.  The  smith  asked  me  why  the 
golden  shoes  were  given  to  the  horse.  Now  I'm  quite  clear 
about  the  answer.  They  were  given  to  the  horse  on  my  ac- 
count." 

And  now  the  Beetle  was  in  a  good  temper  again. 

"Traveling  expands  the  mind  rarely,"  said  he. 

The  sun's  rays  came  streaming  into  the  stable,  and  shone 
upon  him,  and  made  the  place  lively  and  bright. 

"The  world  is  not  so  bad  upon  the  whole,"  said  the 
Beetle;  "but  one  must  know  how  to  take  things  as  they 
come." 


WHAT  THE  OLD  MAN  DOES  IS  ALWAYS  RIGHT. 

I  will  tell  you  the  story  which  was  told  to  me  when  I  was 
a  little  boy.  Every  time  I  thought  of  the  story,  it  seemed  to 
me  to  become  more  and  more  charming;  for  it  is  with 
stories  as  it  is  with  many  people — they  become  better  as 
they  grow  older. 

I  take  it  for  granted  that  you  have  been  in  the  country, 
and  seen  a  very  old  farmhouse  with  a  thatched  roof,  and 
mosses  and  small  plants  growing  wild  upon  the  thatch. 
There  is  a  stork's  nest  on  the  summit  of  the  gable;  for  we 
can't  do  without  the  stork.  The  walls  of  the  house  are 
sloping,  and  the  windows  are  low,  and  only  one  of  the  latter 
is  made  so  that  it  will  open.  The  baking-oven  sticks  out 
of  the  wall  like  a  little  fat  body.  The  elder  tree  hangs  over 
the  paling,  and  beneath  its  branches,  at  the  foot  of  the  pal- 
ing, is  a  pool  of  water  in  which  a  few  ducks  are  disporting 
themselves.  There  is  a  yard  dog,  too,  who  barks  at  all 
comers. 

Just  such  a  farmhouse  stood  out  in  the  country;  and  in 
this  house  dwelt  an  old  couple — a  peasant  and  his  wife. 
Small  as  was  their  property,  there  was  one  article  among  it 
that  they  could  do  without — a  horse,  which  made  a  living 
out  of  the  grass  it  found  by  the  side  of  the  high  road.  The 
old  peasant  rode  into  the  town  on  this  horse;  and  often  his 
neighbors  borrowed  it  of  him,  and  rendered  the  old  couple 
some  service  in  return  for  the  loan  of  it.    But  they  thought 


112  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

it  would  be  best  if  they  sold  the  horse,  or  exchanged  it  for 
something  that  might  be  more  useful  to  them.  But  what 
might  this  something  be? 

"You'll  know  that  best,  old  man,"  said  the  wife.  "It  is 
fair  day  to-day,  so  ride  into  town,  and  get  rid  of  the  horse 
for  money,  or  make  a  good  exchange;  whichever  you  do 
will  be  right  to  me.     Ride  off  to  the  fair." 

And  she  fastened  his  neckerchief  for  him,  for  she  could 
do  that  better  than  he  could;  and  she  tied  it  in  a  double 
bow,  for  she  could  do  that  very  prettily.  Then  she  brushed 
his  hat  round  and  round  with  the  palm  of  her  hand,  and 
gave  him  a  kiss.  So  he  rode  away  upon  the  horse  that  was 
to  be  sold  or  to  be  bartered  for  something  else.  Yes,  the 
old  man  knew  what  he  was  about. 

The  sun  shone  hotly  down,  and  not  a  cloud  was  to  be 
seen  in  the  sky.  The  road  was  very  dusty,  for  many  people, 
who  were  all  bound  for  the  fair,  were  driving  or  riding,  or 
walking  upon  it.  There  was  no  shelter  anywhere  from  the 
sunbeams. 

Among  the  rest,  a  man  was  trudging  along,  and  driving  a 
cow  to  the  fair.  The  cow  was  as  beautiful  a  creature  as  any 
cow  can  be. 

"She  gives  good  milk,  I'm  sure,"  said  the  peasant.  "That 
would  be  a  very  good  exchange — the  cow  for  the  horse." 

"Hallo,  you  there  with  the  cow!"  he  said;  "I  tell  you 
what — I  fancy  a  horse  costs  more  than  a  cow,  but  I  don't 
care  for  that;  a  cow  would  be  more  useful  to  me.  If  you 
like,  we'll  exchange." 

"To  be  sure  I  will,"  returned  the  man;  and  they  ex- 
changed accordingly. 

So  that  was  settled,  and  the  peasant  might  have  turned 
back,  for  he  had  done  the  business  he  came  to  do ;  but  as  he 
had  once  made  up  his  mind  to  go  to  the  fair,  he  determined 
to  proceed,  merely  to  have  a  look  at  it;  and  so  he  went  on 
to  the  town  with  his  cov/. 

Leading  the  animal,  he  strode  sturdily  on;  and  after  a 
short  time,  he  overtook  a  man  who  was  driving  a  sheep.  It 
was  a  good  fat  sheep,  with  a  fine  fleece  on  its  back. 

"I  should  like  to  have  that  fellow,"  said  our  peasant  to 
himself.  "He  would  find  plenty  of  grass  by  our  palings, 
and  in  the  winter  we  could  keep  him  in  the  room  with  us. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  113 

Perhaps  it  would  be  more  practical  to  have  a  sheep  instead 
of  a  cow.    Shall  we  exchange?" 

The  man  with  the  sheep  was  quite  ready,  and  the  bar- 
gain was  struck.  So  our  peasant  went  on  in  the  high  road 
with  his  sheep. 

Soon  he  overtook  another  man,  who  came  into  the  road 
from  a  field,  carrying  a  great  goose  under  his  arm. 

"That's  a  heavy  thing  you  have  there.  It  has  plenty  of 
feathers  and  plenty  of  fat,  and  would  look  well  tied  to  a 
string,  and  paddling  in  the  water  at  our  place.  That  would 
be  something  for  my  old  woman;  she  could  make  all  kinds 
of  profit  out  of  it.  How  often  she  has  said,  'If  we  only  had 
a  goose!'  Now,  perhaps,  she  can  have  one;  and,  if  possible, 
it  shall  be  hers.  Shall  we  exchange?  I'll  give  you  my  sheep 
for  your  goose,  and  thank  you  into  the  bargain." 

The  other  man  had  not  the  least  objection;  and  accord- 
ingly they  exchanged,  and  our  peasant  became  proprietor 
of  the  goose. 

By  this  time  he  was  very  near  the  town.  Tlie  crowd  on 
the  high  road  became  greater  and  greater;  there  was  quite 
a  crush  of  men  and  cattle.  They  walked  in  the  road,  and 
close  by  the  paling;  and  at  the  barrier  they  even  walked 
into  the  tollman's  potato  field,  where  his  own  fowl  was 
strutting  about  with  a  string  to  its  legs,  lest  it  should  take 
fright  at  the  crowd,  and  stray  away,  and  so  be  lost.  This 
fowl  had  short  tail-feathers,  and  winked  with  both  its  eyes, 
and  looked  very  cunning.  "Cluck,  cluck!"  said  the  fowl. 
What  it  thought  when  it  said  this  I  cannot  tell  you;  but 
directly  our  good  man  saw  it,  he  thought,  "That's  the  finest 
fowl  I've  ever  seen  in  my  life !  Why,  it's  finer  than  our  par- 
son's brood  hen.  On  my  word,  I  should  like  to  have  that 
fowl.  A  fowl  can  always  find  a  grain  or  two,  and  can  almost 
keep  itself.  I  think  it  would  be  a  good  exchange  if  I  could 
get  that  for  my  goose.  Shall  we  exchange?"  he  asked  the 
toll-taker. 

"Exchange!''  repeated  the  man;  "well,  that  would  not 
be  a  bad  thing." 

And  so  they  exchanged;  the  toll-taker  at  the  barrier  kept 
the  goose,  and  the  peasant  carried  away  the  fowl. 

Now,  he  had  done  a  good  deal  of  business  on  his  way  to 
the  fair,  and  he  was  hot  and  tired.  He  wanted  something  to 
eat,  and  a  glass  of  brandy  to  drink ;  and  soon  he  was  in  front 
I 


114  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

of  the  inn.  He  was  just  about  to  step  in,  when  the  hostler 
came  out;  so  they  met  at  the  door.  The  hostler  was  carry- 
ing a  sack. 

"What  have  you  in  that  sack?"  asked  the  peasant. 
"Rotten  apples,"  answered  the  hostler;   "a  whole  sackful 
of  them — enough  to  feed  the  pigs  with." 

"Why,  that's  terrible  waste!  I  should  like  to  take  them 
to  my  old  woman  at  home.  Last  year  the  old  tree  by  the 
turf-hole  only  bore  a  single  apple,  and  we  kept  it  in  the  cup- 
board till  it  was  quite  rotten  and  spoiled.  'It  was  always 
property,'  my  old  woman  said;  but  here  she  could  see  a 
quantity  of  property — a  whole  sackful.  Yes,  I  shall  be  glad 
to  show  them  to  her." 

"What  will  you  give  me  for  the  sackful?"  asked  the 
hostler. 

"What  will  I  give?     I  will  give  my  fowl  in  exchange." 

And  he  gave  the  fowl  accordingly,  and  received  the  ap- 
ples, which  he  carried  into  the  guest-room.  He  leaned  the 
sack  carefully  by  the  stove,  and  then  went  to  the  table.  But 
the  stove  was  hot;  he  had  not  thought  of  that.  Many 
guests  were  present — horse  dealers,  ox-herds,  and  two  Eng- 
lishmen— and  the  two  Englishmen  were  so  rich  that  their 
pockets  bulged  out  with  gold  coins,  and  almost  burst;  and 
they  could  bet,  too,  as  you  shall  hear. 

Hiss-s-s!  hiss-s-s!  What  was  that  by  the  stove?  The 
apples  were  beginning  to  roast. 

"What  is  that?" 

"Why,  do  you  know ''  said  our  peasant. 

And  he  told  the  whole  story  of  the  horse  that  he  had  ex- 
changed for  a  cow,  and  all  the  rest  of  it  down  to  the  ap- 
ples. 

"Well,  your  old  woman  will  give  it  you  well  when  you 
get  home,"  said  one  of  the  Englishmen.  "There  will  be  a 
disturbance." 

"WHiat? — give  me  what?"  said  the  peasant.  "She  will 
kiss  me,  and  say,  'What  the  old  man  does  is  always  right.'  " 

"Shall  we  wager?"  said  the  Englishman.  "We'll  wager 
coined  gold  by  the  ton — a  hundred  pounds  to  the  hundred- 
weight !" 

"A  bushel  will  be  enough,''  replied  the  peasant.  "I  can 
only  set  the  bushel  of  apples  against  it;  and  I'll  throw  my- 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  115 

self  and  my  old  woman  into  the  bargain — and  I  fancy  that's 
piling  up  the  measure !" 

"Done — taken!" 

And  the  bet  was  made.  The  host's  carriage  came  up,  and 
the  Englishmen  got  in,  and  the  peasant  got  in;  away  they 
went,  and  soon  they  stopped  before  the  peasant's  hut, 

"Good-evening,  old  woman." 

"Good-evening,  old  man." 

"I've  made  exchange." 

"Yes,  you  understand  what  you're  about,"  said  the  wo- 
man. 

And  she  embraced  him  and  paid  no  attention  to  the 
stranger  guests,  nor  did  she  notice  the  sack. 

"I  got  a  cow  in  exchange  for  the  horse,''  said  he. 

"Heaven  be  thanked!"  said  she.  "What  glorious  milk 
we  shall  now  have,  and  butter  and  cheese  upon  the  table! 
That  was  a  most  capital  exchange!" 

"Yes,  but  I  changed  the  cow  for  a  sheep." 

"Ah,  that's  better  still!"  cried  the  wife.  "You  aUvays 
think  of  everything;  we  have  just  pasture  enough  for  a 
sheep.  Ewe's  milk  and  cheese,  and  woolen  jackets  and 
stockings!  The  cow  cannot  give  those,  and  her  hairs  will 
only  come  off.     How  you  think  of  everything!" 

"But  I  changed  away  the  sheep  for  a  goose." 

"Then  this  year  we  shall  really  have  roast  goose  to  eat, 
my  dear  old  mian.  You  are  always  thinking  of  something 
to  give  me  pleasure.  How  charming  that  is!  We  can  let 
the  goose  walk  about  with  a  string  to  her  leg,  and  she'll 
grow  fatter  still  before  we  roast  her." 

"But  I  gave  away  the  goose  for  a  fowl,"  said  the  man. 

"A  fowl?  That  was  a  good  exchange!"  replied  the  wo- 
man. "The  fowl  will  lay  eggs  and  hatch  them,  and  we  shall 
soon  have  chickens;  we  shall  have  a  whole  poultry  yard!  Oh, 
that's  just  what  I  was  wishing  for." 

"Yes,  but  I  exchanged  the  fowl  for  a  sack  of  shriveled 
apples." 

"What! — I  must  positively  kiss  you  for  that,"  exclaimed 
the  wife.  "My  dear,  good  husband!  Now  I'll  tell  you 
something.  Do  you  know,  you  had  hardly  left  me  this 
morning  before  I  began  thinking  how  I  could  give  you 
something  very  nice  this  evening.  I  thought  it  should  be 
pancakes  with  savory  herbs.     I  had  eggs,  and  bacon,  too; 


116  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

but  I  wanted  herbs.  So  I  went  over  to  the  schoolmaster's — 
they  have  herbs  there,  I  know — but  the  schoolmistress  is  a 
mean  woman,  though  she  looks  so  sweet.  I  begged  her  to 
lend  me  a  handful  of  herbs.  'Lend!'  she  answered  me; 
'nothing  at  all  grows  in  our  garden,  not  even  a  shriveled  ap- 
ple. I  could  not  even  lend  you  a  shriveled  apple,  my  dear 
woman.'  But  now  I  can  lend  her  twenty,  or  a  whole  sack- 
ful. That  I'm  very  glad  of;  that  makes  me  laugh!"  And 
with  that  she  gave  him  a  sounding  kiss. 

"I  like  that!"  exclaimed  both  the  Englishmen  together. 
"Always  going  down-hill,  and  always  merry;  that's  worth 
the  money." 

So  they  paid  a  hundredweight  of  gold  to  the  peasant,  who 
was  not  scolded,  but  kissed. 

Yes,  it  always  pays,  when  the  wife  sees  and  always  as- 
serts that  her  husband  knows  best,  and  that  whatever  he 
does  is  right. 

You  see,  that  is  my  story.  I  heard  it  when  I  was  a  child; 
and  now  you  have  heard  it,  too,  and  know  that  "What  the 
old  man  does  is  always  right." 


GOOD  HUMOR. 

My  father  left  me  the  best  inheritance,  to  wit — good 
humor.  And  who  was  my  father?  Why,  that  has  noth- 
ing to  do  with  the  humor.  He  was  lively  and  stout,  round 
and  fat;  and  his  outer  and  inner  man  was  in  direct  contra- 
diction to  his  calling.  And  pray  what  was  he  by  profession 
and  calling  in  civil  society?  Yes,  if  this  were  to  be  written 
down  and  printed  in  the  very  beginning  of  a  book,  it  is 
probable  that  many  when  they  read  it  would  lay  the  book 
aside  and  say,  "It  looks  so  uncomfortable;  I  don't  like  any- 
thing of  that  sort."  And  yet  my  father  was  neither  a  horse 
slaughterer  nor  an  executioner;  on  the  contrary,  his  office 
placed  him  at  the  head  of  the  most  respectable  gentry  of  the 
town;  and  he  held  his  place  by  right,  for  it  was  his  right 
place.  He  had  to  go  first  before  the  bishop  even,  and  be- 
fore the  Princess  of  the  Blood.  He  always  went  first — for 
he  was  the  driver  of  the  hearse. 

There,  now  it's  out!     And  I  will  confess  that  when  people 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  117 

saw  my  father  sitting  perched  up  on  the  omnibus  of  death, 
dressed  in  his  long,  wide,  black  coat,  and  with  his  black- 
bordered,  three-cornered  hat  on  his  head — and  then  his  face, 
exactly  as  the  sun  is  drawn,  round  and  jocund — it  was  diffi- 
cult for  them  to  think  of  the  grave  and  of  sorrow.  The  face 
said,  "It  doesn't  matter;  it  doesn't  matter;  it  will  be  better 
than  one  thinks." 

You  see  I  have  inherited  my  good-humor  from  him,  and 
also  the  habit  of  going  often  to  the  churchyard,  which  is  a 
good  thing  to  do  if  it  be  done  in  the  right  spirit;  and  then  I 
take  in  the  Intelligencer,  just  as  he  used  to  do. 

I  am  not  quite  young.  I  have  neither  wife,  nor  children, 
nor  a  library;  but,  as  aforesaid,  I  take  in  the  Intelligencer, 
and  that's  my  favorite  newspaper,  as  it  was  also  my  father's. 
It  is  very  useful,  and  contains  everything  that  a  man  needs  to 
know — such  as  who  preaches  in  the  church  and  the  new 
books.  And  then  what  a  lot  of  charity,  and  what  a  number 
of  innocent,  harmless  verses  are  found  in  it!  Advertise- 
ments for  husbands  and  wives,  and  requests  for  interviews — • 
all  quite  simple  and  natural.  Certainly,  one  may  live  mer- 
rily and  be  contentedly  buried  if  one  takes  in  the  Intelli- 
gencer. And  as  a  concluding  advantage,  by  the  end  of  his 
life  a  man  will  have  such  a  capital  store  of  paper,  that  he 
may  use  it  as  a  soft  bed,  unless  he  prefers  to  rest  upon  wood 
shavings. 

The  newspaper  and  m.y  walk  to  the  churchyard  were  al- 
ways my  most  exciting  occupations — they  were  like  bathing 
places  for  my  good  humor. 

The  newspaper  everyone  can  read  for  himself.  But  please 
come  with  me  to  the  churchyard ;  let  us  wander  there,  where 
the  sun  shines  and  the  trees  grow  green.  Each  of  the  nar- 
row houses  is  like  a  closed  book,  with  the  back  placed  up- 
permost, so  that  one  can  only  read  the  title  and  judge  what 
the  book  contains,  but  can  tell  nothing  about  it;  but  I  know 
something  about  them.  I  heard  it  from  my  father,  or  found 
it  out  myself.  I  have  it  all  down  in  my  record  that  I  wrote 
out  for  my  own  use  and  pleasure ;  all  that  lie  here,  and  a  few 
more,  too,  are  chronicled  in  it. 

Now  we  are  in  the  churchyard. 

Here,  behind  the  white  railing,  where  once  a  rose  tree 
grew — it  is  gone  now,  but  a  little  evergreen  from  the  next 
grave  stretches  out  its  green  fingers  to  make  a  show — there 


118  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES, 

rests  a  very  unhappy  man;  and  yet,  when  he  Hvecl,  he  was  in 
what  they  cah  a  good  position.  He  had  enough  to  live 
upon,  and  something  over;  but  worldly  cares,  or,  to  speak 
more  correctly,  his  great  artistic  taste,  weighed  heavily  upon 
him.  If  in  the  evening  he  sat  in  the  theater  to  enjoy  him- 
self thoroughly,  he  would  be  quite  put  out  if  the  machinist 
had  put  too  strong  a  light  into  one  side  of  the  moon,  or  if 
the  sky-pieces  hung  down  over  the  scenes  when  they  ought 
to  have  hung  behind  them,  or  when  a  palm  tree  was  intro- 
duced into  a  scene  representing  the  Berlin  Zoological  Gar- 
dens, or  a  cactus  in  a  view  of  the  Tyrol,  or  a  beech  tree  in 
the  far  north  of  Norway.  As  if  that  was  of  any  consequence. 
Is  it  not  quite  immaterial?  Who  would  fidget  about  such  a 
trifle?  It's  only  make-believe,  after  all,  and  everyone  is  ex- 
pected to  be  amused.  Then  sometimes  the  public  applaud- 
ed too  much  to  suit  his  taste,  and  sometimes  too  little, 
"They're  like  wet  wood  this  evening,"  he  would  say;  "they 
won't  kindle  at  all !"  And  then  he  would  look  around  to  see 
what  kind  of  people  they  were ;  and  sometimes  he  would  find 
them  laughing  at  the  wrong  time,  when  they  ought  not  to 
have  laughed,  and  that  vexed  him  and  he  fretted  and  was  an 
unhappy  man,  and  at  last  fretted  himself  into  his  grave. 

Here  rests  a  very  happy  man.  That  is  to  say,  a  very 
grand  man.  He  was  of  high  birth,  and  that  was  lucky  for 
him,  for  otherwise  he  would  never  have  been  anything  worth 
speaking  of;  and  nature  orders  all  that  very  wisely,  so  that 
it's  quite  charming  when  we  think  of  it.  He  used  to  go 
about  in  a  coat  embroidered  back  and  front,  and  appeared  in 
the  saloons  of  society  just  like  one  of  those  costly,  pearl- 
embroidered  bell-pulls,  which  have  always  a  good,  thick, 
serviceable  cord  behind  them  to  do  the  work.  He  likewise 
had  a  good  stout  cord  behind  him  in  the  shape  of  a  substi- 
tute, who  did  his  duty,  and  who  still  continues  to  do  it  be- 
hind another  embroidered  bell-pull.  Everything  is  so  nice- 
ly managed,  it's  enough  to  put  one  into  a  good  humor. 

Here  rests — well  it's  a  very  mournful  reflection — here 
rests  a  man  who  spent  sixty-seven  years  considering  how  he 
should  get  a  good  idea.  The  sole  object  of  his  life  was  to 
say  a  good  thing,  and  at  last  he  felt  convinced  in  his  own 
mind  that  he  had  got  one,  was  so  glad  of  it  that  he  died  of 
pure  joy  at  having  caught  an  idea  at  last.  Nobody  derived 
any  benefit  from  it,  and  nobody  even  heard  what  the  good 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  119 

thing  was.  Now,  I  can  fancy  that  this  same  good  thing 
won't  let  him  he  quiet  in  his  grave ;  for  let  us  suppose  that  it 
is  a  good  thing  which  can  only  be  brought  out  at  breakfast 
if  it  is  to  make  an  effect,  and  that  he,  according  to  the  re- 
ceived opinion  concerning  ghosts,  can  only  rise  and  walk  at 
midnight.  Why,  then  the  good  thing  would  not  suit  the 
time,  and  the  man  must  carry  his  good  idea  down  with  him 
again.     What  an  unhappy  man  he  must  be ! 

Here  rests  a  remarkably  stingy  woman.  During  her  life- 
time she  used  to  get  up  at  night  and  mew,  so  that  the  neigh- 
bors might  think  she  kept  a  cat — she  was  so  remarkably 
stingy. 

Here  is  a  maiden  of  another  kind.  When  the  canary  bird 
of  the  heart  begins  to  chirp,  reason  puts  her  fingers  in  her 
ears.  The  maiden  was  going  to  be  married,  but — well,  it's 
an  everyday  story,  and  we  will  let  the  dead  rest. 

Here  sleeps  a  widow,  who  carried  melody  in  her  mouth 
and  gall  in  her  heart.  She  used  to  go  out  for  prey  in  the 
families  round  about;  and  the  prey  she  hunted  was  her 
neighbors'  faults,  and  she  was  an  indefatigable  hunter. 

Here's  a  family  sepulcher.  Every  member  of  this  family 
held  so  firmly  to  the  opinions  of  the  rest,  that  if  all  the  world, 
and  the  newspapers  into  the  bargain,  said  of  a  certain  thing 
it  is  so  and  so,  and  the  little  boy  came  home  from  school, 
and  said,  "I've  learned  it  thus  and  thus,"  they  declared  his 
opinion  to  be  the  only  true  one,  because  he  belonged  to  the 
family.  And  it  is  an  acknowledged  fact,  that  if  the  yard 
cock  of  the  family  crowed  at  midnight,  they  would  declare  it 
was  morning,  though  the  watchman  and  all  the  clocks  in  the 
city  were  crying  out  that  it  was  twelve  o'clock  at  night. 

The  great  poet  Goethe  concludes  his  "Faust"  with  the 
words  "May  be  continued";  and  our  wanderings  in  the 
churchyard  may  be  continued,  too.  If  any  of  my  friends,  or 
my  non-friends,  go  on  too  fast  for  me,  I  go  out  to  my  favor- 
ite spot,  and  select  a  mound,  and  bury  him  or  her  there — 
bury  that  person  who  is  yet  alive;  and  there  those  I  bury 
must  stay  till  they  come  back  as  new  and  improved  charac- 
ters. I  inscribe  their  life  and  their  deeds,  looked  at  in  my 
fashion,  in  my  record;  and  that's  what  all  people  ought  to 
do.  They  ought  not  to  be  vexed  when  anyone  goes  on 
ridiculously,  but  bury  him  directly,  and  maintain  their  good 


120  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

humor;  and  keep  to  the  InteUigencer,  which  is  often  a  book 
written  by  the  people  with  its  hand  guided. 

When  the  time  comes  for  me  to  be  bound  with  my  history 
in  the  boards  of  the  grave,  I  hope  they  will  put  up  as  my 
epitaph,  "A  good-humored  one."     And  that's  my  story. 


CHILDREN'S  PRATTLE. 

At  the  rich  merchant's  there  was  a  children's  party;  rich 
people's  children  and  grand  people's  children  were  there. 
The  merchant  was  a  learned  man ;  he  had  once  gone  through 
the  college  examination,  for  his  honest  father  had  kept  him 
to  this,  his  father  who  had  at  first  only  been  a  cattle  dealer, 
but  always  an  honest  and  industrious  man.  The  trade  liad 
brought  money,  and  the  merchant  had  managed  to  increase 
the  store.  Clever  he  was,  and  he  had  also  a  heart,  but  there 
was  less  said  of  his  heart  than  of  his  money.  At  the  mer- 
chant's, grand  people  went  in  and  out — people  of  blood,  as 
it  is  called,  and  people  of  intellect,  and  people  who  had  both 
of  these,  and  people  who  had  neither.  Now  there  was  a 
children's  party  there,  and  children's  prattle,  and  children 
speak  frankly  from  the  heart.  Among  the  rest  there  v/as  a 
beautiful  little  girl,  but  the  little  one  was  terribly  proud;  but 
the  servants  had  taught  her  that,  not  her  parents,  w^ho  were 
far  too  sensible  people.  Her  father  was  a  Groom  of  the 
Bedchamber,  and  that  is  a  very  grand  ofhce,  and  she 
knew  it. 

'T  am  the  child  of  the  bedchamber,"  she  said. 

Now  she  might  just  as  well  have  been  a  child  of  the  cellar, 
for  nobody  can  help  his  birth;  and  then  she  told  the  other 
children  that  she  was  "well  born,"  and  said  that  no  one  who 
was  not  well  born  could  get  on  far  in  the  world ;  it  was  of  no 
use  to  read  and  to  be  industrious;  if  one  was  not  well  born 
one  could  not  achieve  anything. 

"And  those  whose  names  end  with  'sen,' "  said  she,  "they 
cannot  be  anything  at  all.  One  must  put  one's  arms  akim- 
bo and  make  the  elbows  quite  pointed,  and  keep  them  at  a 
great  distance,  these  'sen'!" 

And  she  stuck  out  her  pretty  little  arm.s,  and  made  her 
elbows  quite  pointed,  to  show  how  it  was  to  be  done,  and 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  121 

her  little  arms  were  very  pretty.       She  was  a  sweet  little 

girl. 

But  the  little  daughter  of  the  merchant  became  very  angry 
at  this  speech,  for  her  father's  name  was  Petersen,  and  she 
knew  that  the  name  ended  in  "sen";  and  therefore  she  said, 
as  proudly  as  ever  she  could: 

"But  my  papa  can  buy  a  hundred  dollars'  worth  of  bon- 
bons, and  throw  them  to  the  children!  Can  your  papa  do 
that?" 

"Yes,  but  my  papa,"  said  an  author's  little  daughter,  "my 
papa  can  put  your  papa  and  everybody's  papa  into  the  news- 
paper. All  people  are  afraid  of  him,  my  mamma  says,  for  it 
is  my  father  who  rules  in  the  paper." 

And  the  little  maiden  looked  exceedingly  proud,  as 
though  she  had  been  a  real  Princess,  who  is  expected  to 
look  proud. 

But  outside  the  door,  which  was  ajar,  stood  a  poor  boy, 
peeping  through  the  crack  of  the  door.  He  was  of  such 
lowly  station  that  he  was  not  even  allowed  to  enter  the 
room.  He  had  turned  the  spit  for  the  cook,  and  she  had 
allowed  him  to  stand  behind  the  door,  and  to  look  at  the 
well-dressed  children  who  were  making  a  merry  day  within, 
and  for  him  that  was  a  great  deal. 

"Oh,  to  be  one  of  them!"  thought  he;  and  then  he  heard 
what  was  said,  which  was  certainly  calculated  to  make  him 
very  unhappy.  His  parents  at  home  had  not  a  penny  to 
spare  to  buy  a  newspaper,  much  less  could  they  write  one; 
and,  what  was  worst  of  all,  his  father's  name,  and  conse- 
quently his  own,  ended  completely  in  "sen,''  and  so  he  could 
not  turn  out  well.  That  was  terrible.  But,  after  all,  he 
had  been  born,  and  very  well  born  as  it  seemed  to  him;  that 
could  not  be  otherwise. 

And  that  is  what  was  done  on  that  evening. 

Many  years  have  elapsed  since  then,  and  in  the  course  of 
years  children  became  grown-up  persons. 

In  the  town  stood  a  splendid  house;  it  was  filled  with  all 
kinds  of  beautiful  objects  and  treasures,  and  all  people 
wished  to  see  it ;  even  people  who  dwelt  out  of  town  came  to 
see  it.  Which  of  the  children  of  whom  we  have  told  might 
call  this  house  his  own?  To  know  that  is  very  easy.  No, 
no;  it  is  not  so  very  easy.  The  house  belonged  to  the  poor 
little  boy  who  had  stood  on  that  night  behind  the  door,  and 


122  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

he  had  become  something  great,  ahhough  his  name  ended 
in  "sen" — Thorwaldsen. 

And  the  three  other  children?  the  children  of  blood  and  of 
money,  and  of  spiritual  pride?  Well,  they  had  nothing 
wherewith  to  reproach  each  other — they  turned  out  well 
enough,  for  they  had  been  well  dowered  by  bountiful  na- 
ture; and  what  they  had  thought  and  spoken  on  that  even- 
ing long  ago  was  mere  children's  prattle. 


THE  FLYING  TRUNK. 

There  was  once  a  merchant,  who  was  so  rich  that  he  could 
pave  the  whole  street  with  gold,  and  almost  have  enough  left 
for  a  little  lane.  But  he  did  not  do  that;  he  knew  how  to 
employ  his  money  differently.  When  he  spent  a  shilling  he 
got  back  a  crown,  such  a  clever  merchant  was  he;  and  this 
continued  till  he  died. 

His  son  now  got  all  this  money;  and  he  lived  merrily,  go- 
ing to  the  masquerade  every  evening,  making  kites  out  of 
dollar  notes,  and  playing  at  ducks  and  drakes  on  the  sea- 
coast  with  gold  pieces  instead  of  pebbles.  In  this  way  the 
money  might  soon  be  spent,  and  indeed  it  was  so.  At  last 
he  had  no  more  than  four  shillings  left,  and  no  clothes  to 
wear  but  a  pair  of  slippers  and  an  old  dressing-gown.  Now 
his  friends  did  not  trouble  themselves  any  more  about  him, 
as  they  could  not  walk  with  him  in  the  street,  but  one  of 
them,  who  was  good-natured,  sent  him  an  old  trunk,  with 
the  remark,  "Pack  up!"  Yes,  that  was  all  very  well,  but  he 
had  nothing  to  pack,  therefore  he  seated  himself  in  the 
trunk. 

That  was  a  wonderful  trunk.  So  soon  as  anyone  pressed 
the  lock,  the  trunk  could  fly.  He  pressed  it,  and  whirr! 
away  flew  the  trunk  with  him  through  the  chimney  and  over 
the  clouds,  farther  and  farther  away.  But  as  often  as  the 
bottom  of  the  trunk  cracked  a  little  he  was  in  great  fear  lest 
it  might  go  to  pieces,  and  then  he  would  have  flung  a  fine 
somersault!  In  that  way  he  came  to  the  land  of  the  Turks. 
He  hid  the  trunk  in  a  wood  under  some  dry  leaves,  and  then 
went  into  the  town.  He  could  do  that  very  well,  for  among 
the  Turks  all  the  people  went  dressed  like  himself  in  dress- 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  123 

ing-gown  and  slippers.  Then  he  met  a  nurse  with  a  Httle 
child. 

"Here,  you  Turkish  nurse,"  he  began,  "what  kind  of  a 
great  castle  is  that  close  by  the  town,  in  which  the  windows 
are  so  high  up?" 

"There  dwells  the  Sultan's  daughter,"  replied  she.  'Tt  is 
prophesied  that  she  will  be  very  unhappy  respecting  a  lover; 
and  therefore  nobody  may  go  to  her,  unless  the  Sultan  and 
Sultana  are  there  too." 

"Thank  you!''  said  the  merchant's  son;  and  he  went  out 
into  the  forest,  seated  himself  in  his  trunk,  flew  on  the  roof, 
and  crept  through  the  window  into  the  Princess's  room. 

She  was  lying  asleep  on  the  sofa,  and  she  was  so  beautiful 
that  the  merchant's  son  was  compelled  to  kiss  her.  Then 
she  awoke,  and  was  very  much  startled;  but  he  said  he  was 
a  Turkish  angel,  who  had  come  down  to  her  through  the 
air,  and  that  pleased  her. 

They  sat  down  side  by  side,  and  he  told  her  stories  about 
her  eyes;  he  told  her  they  were  the  most  glorious  dark  lakes, 
and  that  thoughts  were  swimming  about  in  them  like  mer- 
maids. And  he  told  her  about  her  forehead;  that  it  was  a 
snowy  mountain,  with  the  most  splendid  halls  full  of  pic- 
tures. And  he  told  her  about  the  stork  who  brings  the 
lovely  little  children. 

Yes,  those  were  fine  histories !  Then  he  asked  the  Prin- 
cess if  she  would  marry  him,  and  she  said  "Yes,"  directly. 

"But  you  must  come  here  on  Saturday,"  said  she.  "Then 
the  Sultan  and  the  Sultana  will  be  here  to  tea.  They  will  be 
very  proud  that  I  am  to  marry  a  Turkish  angel.  But  take 
care  that  you  know  a  very  pretty  story,  for  both  my  parents 
are  very  fond  indeed  of  stories.  My  mother  likes  them 
high-flown  and  moral,  but  my  father  likes  them  merry,  so 
that  one  can  laugh." 

"Yes,  I  shall  bring  no  marriage  gift  but  a  story,"  said  he; 
and  so  they  parted.  But  the  Princess  gave  him  a  saber,  the 
sheath  embroidered  with  gold  pieces,  and  that  was  very 
useful  to  him. 

Now  he  flew  away,  bought  a  new  dressing-gown,  and  sat 
in  the  forest  and  made  up  a  story;  it  was  to  be  ready  by 
Saturday,  and  that  was  not  an  easy  thing. 

By  the  time  he  had  finished  it  Saturday  had  come.     The 


124  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

Sultan  and  his  wife  and  all  the  Court  were  at  the  Princess's 
to  tea.     He  was  received  very  graciously. 

"Will  you  relate  us  a  story?"  said  the  Sultana;  "one  that 
is  deep  and  edifying." 

"Yes,  but  one  that  we  can  laugh  at,"  said  the  Sultan. 

"Certainly,"  he  replied ;  and  began.     And  now  listen  well. 

"There  was  once  a  bundle  of  Matches,  and  these  Matches 
were  particularly  proud  of  their  high  descent.  Their  genea- 
logical tree,  that  is  to  say,  the  great  fir  tree  of  which  each  of 
them  was  a  little  splinter,  had  been  a  great  old  tree  out  in 
the  forest.  The  Matches  now  lay  between  a  Tinder  Box 
and  an  old  Iron  Pot;  and  they  were  telling  about  the  days  of 
their  youth.  'Yes,  when  we  were  upon  the  green  boughs,' 
they  said,  'then  we  really  were  upon  the  green  boughs! 
Every  morning  and  evening  there  was  diamond  tea  for  us 
(meaning  dew) ;  we  had  sunshine  all  day  long  whenever  the 
sun  shone,  and  all  the  little  birds  had  to  tell  stories.  We 
could  see  very  well  that  we  were  rich,  for  the  other  trees 
v\'ere  only  dressed  out  in  summer,  while  our  family  had  the 
means  to  wear  green  dresses  in  the  winter  as  well.  But 
then  the  woodcutter  came,  like  a  great  revolution,  and  our 
family  was  broken  up.  The  head  of  the  family  got  an  ap- 
pointment as  mainmast  in  a  first-rate  ship,  which  could  sail 
round  the  world  if  necessary;  the  other  branches  went  to 
other  places,  and  now  we  have  the  office  of  kindling  a  light 
for  the  vulgar  herd.  That's  how  we  grand  people  came  to 
be  in  the  kitchen.' 

"  'My  fate  was  of  a  different  kind,'  said  the  Iron  Pot, 
which  stood  next  to  the  Matches.  'From  the  beginning, 
ever  since  I  came  into  the  v^^orld,  there  has  been  a  great  deal 
of  scouring  and  cooking  done  in  me.  I  look  after  the  prac- 
tical part,  and  am  the  first  here  in  the  house.  My  onl}' 
pleasure  is  to  sit  in  miy  place  after  dinner,  very  clean  and 
neat,  and  to  carry  on  a  sensible  conversation  with  my  com- 
rades. But  except  the  Water  Pot,  which  sometimes  is  taken 
down  into  the  courtyard,  we  always  live  within  our  four 
walls.  Our  only  news-monger  is  the  Market  Basket;  but 
he  speaks  very  uneasily  about  the  government  and  the  peo- 
ple. Yes,  the  other  day,  there  was  an  old  pot  that  fell  down 
from  fright,  and  burst.  He's  liberal,  I  can  tell  you!'  'Now 
you're  talking  too  much,'  the  Tinder  Box  interrupted,  and 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  125 

the  steel  struck  against  the  flints,  so  that  sparks  flew  out. 
'Shall  we  not  have  a  merry  evening?' 

"  'Yes,  let  us  talk  about  who  is  the  grandest,'  said  the 
Matches. 

"  'No,  I  don't  like  to  talk  about  myself,'  retorted  the  Pot. 
'Let  us  get  up  an  evening  entertainment.  I  will  begin.  I 
will  tell  a  story  from  real  life,  something  that  everyone  has 
experienced,  so  that  we  can  easily  imagine  the  situation, 
and  take  pleasure  in  it.  On  the  Baltic,  by  the  Danish 
shore ' 

"'That's  a  pretty  beginning!'  cried  all  the  Plates.  'That 
will  be  a  story  we  shall  like.' 

"  'Yes,  it  happened  to  me  in  my  youth,  when  I  lived  in  a 
quiet  family  where  the  furniture  was  polished,  and  the  floors 
scoured,  and  new  curtains  were  put  up  every  fortnight.' 

"  'What  an  interesting  way  you  have  of  telling  a  story !' 
said  the  Carpet  Broom.  'One  can  tell  directly  that  a  man  is 
speaking  who  has  been  in  woman's  society.  There's  some- 
thing pure  runs  through  it.' 

"And  the  Pot  went  on  telling  his  story,  and  the  end  was 
as  good  as  the  beginning. 

"All  the  Plates  rattled  with  joy,  and  the  Carpet  Broom 
brought  some  green  parsley  out  of  the  dust-hole,  and  put  it 
like  a  wreath  on  the  Pot,  for  he  knew  that  it  v/ould  vex  the 
others.  'If  I  crown  him  to-day,'  it  thought,  'he  will  crown 
me  to-morrow.' 

"  'Now  I'll  dance,'  said  the  Fire  Tongs,  and  they  danced. 
Preserve  us!  how  that  implement  could  lift  up  one  leg! 
The  old  Chair  Cushion  burst  to  see  it.  'Shall  I  be  crowned, 
too?'  thought  the  Tongs;  and  indeed  a  wreath  was 
awarded. 

"  'They're  only  common  people,  after  all !'  thought  the 
Matches. 

"Now  the  Tea-Urn  was  to  sing;  but  she  said  she  had 
taken  cold,  and  could  not  sing  unless  she  felt  boiling  within. 
But  that  was  only  affectation ;  she  did  not  want  to  sing,  ex- 
cept when  she  was  in  the  parlor  with  the  grand  people. 

"In  the  window  sat  an  old  Quill  Pen,  with  which  the  maid 
generally  wrote;  there  was  nothing  remarkable  about  this 
pen,  except  that  it  had  been  dipped  too  deep  into  the  ink, 
but  she  was  proud  of  that.  'If  the  Tea-Urn  won't  sing,'  she 
said,  'she  may  leave  it  alone.     Outside  hangs  a  nightingale 


126  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

in  a  cage,  and  he  can  sing.  He  hasn't  had  any  education, 
but  this  evening  we'll  say  nothing  about  that.' 

"  'I  think  it  very  wrong,'  said  the  Tea-Kettle — he  was  the 
kitchen  singer,  and  half-brother  to  the  Tea-Urn — 'that  that 
rich  and  foreign  bird  should  be  listened  to.  Is  that  patri- 
otic?    Let  the  Market  Basket  decide." 

''  'I  am  vexed,'  said  the  Market  Basket.  'No  one  can 
imagine  how  much  I  am  secretly  vexed.  Is  that  a  proper 
way  of  spending  the  evening?  Would  it  not  be  more  sensi- 
ble to  put  the  house  in  order?  Let  each  one  go  to  his  own 
place,  and  I  would  arrange  the  whole  game.  That  would 
be  quite  another  thing.' 

"  'Yes,  let  us  make  a  disturbance,'  cried  they  all.  Then 
the  door  opened  and  the  maid  came  in,  and  they  all  stood 
still;  not  one  stirred.  But  there  was  not  one  pot  among 
them  who  did  not  know  what  he  could  do,  and  how  grand 
he  was.  'Yes,  if  I  had  liked,'  each  one  thought,  'it  might 
have  been  a  very  merry  evening.' 

"The  servant  girl  took  the  Matches  and  lighted  the  lire 
with  them.  Mercy!  how  they  sputtered  and  burst  out  into 
flame!  'Now  everyone  can  see,'  thought  they,  'that  we  are 
the  first.  How  we  shine!  what  a  light!' — and  they  burned 
out." 

"That  was  a  capital  story,"  said  the  Sultana.  "I  feel  my- 
self quite  carried  away  to  the  kitchen,  to  the  Matches.  Yes, 
now  thou  shalt  marry  our  daughter." 

"Yes,  certainly,"  said  the  Sultan,  "thou  shalt  marry  our 
daughter  on  Monday." 

And  they  called  him  thou  because  he  was  to  belong  to  the 
family. 

The  wedding  was  decided  on,  and  on  the  evening  before 
it  the  whole  city  was  illuminated.  Biscuits  and  cakes  were 
thrown  among  the  people;  the  street  boys  stood  upon  their 
toes,  called  out  "Hurrah!"  and  whistled  on  their  fingers.  It 
was  uncommonly  splendid. 

"Yes,  I  shall  have  to  ■  give  something  as  a  treat,"  thought 
the  merchant's  son.  So  he  bought  rockets  and  crackers 
and  every  imaginable  sort  of  firework,  put  them  all  into  his 
trunk,  and  flew  up  into  the  air. 

"Crack!"  how  they  went,  and  how  they  went  ofif!  All 
the  Turks  hopped  up  with  such  a  start  that  their  slippers 
flew  about  their  ears;  such  a  meteor  they  had  never  yet  seen. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  127 

Now  they  could  understand  that  it  must  be  a  Turkish  angel 
who  was  going  to  marry  the  Princess. 

What  stories  people  tell!  Everyone  whom  he  asked 
iabout  it  had  seen  it  in  a  different  way;  but  one  and  all 
thought  it  fine. 

"I  saw  the  Turkish  angel  himself,"  said  one.  "He  had 
eyes  like  glowing  stars,  and  a  beard  like  foaming  water." 

"He  flew  in  a  fiery  mantle,''  said  another;  "the  most  love- 
ly little  cherub  peeped  forth  from  among  the  folds." 

Yes,  they  were  wonderful  things  that  he  heard;  and  on 
the  following  day  he  was  to  be  married. 

Now  he  went  back  to  the  forest  to  rest  himself  in  his 
trunk.  But  what  had  become  of  that?  A  spark  from  the 
fireworks  had  set  fire  to  it,  and  the  trunk  was  burned  to 
ashes.  He  could  not  fly  any  more,  and  could  not  get  to  his 
bride. 

She  stood  all  day  on  the  roof  waiting;  and  most  likely  she 
is  waiting  still.  But  he  wanders  through  the  world  telling 
fairy  tales;  but  they  are  not  so  merry  as  that  one  he  told 
about  the  matches. 


THE  LAST  PEARL. 

We  are  in  a  rich,  a  happy  house;  all  are  cheerful  and  full 
of  joy,  master,  servants,  and  friends  of  the  family;  for  on 
this  day  an  heir,  a  son  had  been  born,  and  mother  and  child 
were  doing  exceedingly  well. 

The  burning  lamp  in  the  bedchamber  had  been  partly 
shaded,  and  the  windows  were  guarded  by  heavy  curtains  of 
some  costly  silken  fabric.  The  carpet  was  thick  and  soft  as 
a  mossy  lawn,  and  everything  invited  to  slumber — was 
charmingly  suggestive  of  repose;  and  the  nurse  found  that, 
for  she  slept;  and  here  she  might  sleep,  for  everything  was 
good  and  blessed.  The  guardian  spirit  of  the  house  leaned 
against  the  head  of  the  bed;  over  the  child  at  the  mother's 
breast  there  spread,  as  it  were,  a  net  of  shining  stars  in  end- 
less number,  and  each  star  was  a  pearl  of  happiness.  All 
the  good  stars  of  life  had  brought  their  gifts  to  the  new- 
born one;  here  sparkled  health,  wealth,  fortune,  and  love — 
in  short,  everything  that  man  can  wish  for  on  earth. 


128  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"Everything  has  been  presented  here,"  said  the  guardian 
spirit. 

"No,  not  everything,"  said  a  voice  near  him,  the  voice  of 
the  child's  good  angel.  "One  fairy  has  not  yet  brought  her 
gift;  but  she  will  do  so  some  day;  even  if  years  should 
elapse  first,  she  will  bring  her  gift.  The  last  pearl  is  yet 
wanting." 

"Wanting!  here  nothing  may  be  wanting;  and  if  it  should 
be  the  case,  let  me  go  and  seek  the  powerful  fairy;  let  us  be- 
take ourselves  to  her." 

"She  comes!  she  will  come  some  day  unsought!  Her 
pearl  may  not  be  wanting;  it  must  be  there,  so  that  the  com- 
plete crown  may  be  won.'' 

"Where  is  she  to  be  found.  Where  does  she  dwell?  Tell 
it  me,  and  I  will  procure  the  pearl." 

"You  will  do  that?"  said  the  good  angel  of  the  child.  "I 
will  lead  you  to  her  directly,  wherever  she  may  be.  She  has 
no  abiding  place — sometimes  she  rules  in  the  Emperor's 
palace,  sometimes  you  will  find  her  in  the  peasant's  humble 
cot;  she  goes  by  no  person  without  leaving  a  trace;  she 
brings  two  gifts  to  all,  be  it  a  world  or  a  trifie.  To  this  child 
also  she  must  come.  You  think  the  time  is  equally  long,  but 
not  equally  profitable.  Come,  let  us  go  for  this  pearl,  the 
last  pearl  in  ail  this  wealth." 

And  hand  in  hand  they  floated  toward  the  spot  where  the 
fairy  was  now  lingering. 

It  was  a  great  house,  with  dark  windows  and  empty 
room-S,  and  a  peculiar  stillness  reigned  therein;  a  whole  row 
of  windows  had  been  opened,  so  that  the  rough  air  could 
penetrate  at  its  pleasure;  the  long,  white  hanging  curtains 
moved  to  and  fro  in  the  current  of  wind. 

In  the  middle  of  the  room  was  placed  an  open  coffin,  and 
in  this  coffin  lay  the  corpse  of  a  woman,  still  in  the  bloom  of 
youth,  and  very  beautiful.  Fresh  roses  were  scattered  over 
her,  so  that  only  the  delicate  folded  hands  and  the  noble 
face,  glorified  in  death  by  the  solemn  look  of  consecration 
and  entrance  to  the  better  world,  were  visible. 

Around  the  coffln  stood  the  husband  and  the  children,  a 
whole  troop;  the  youngest  child  rested  on  the  father's  arm, 
and  all  bade  their  mother  their  last  farewell;  the  husband 
kissed  her  hand,  the  hand  which  now  was  as  a  withered  leaf, 
but  v/hich,  a  short  time  ago,  had  been  working  and  striving 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  129 

in  diligent  love  for  them  all.  Tears  of  sorrow  rolled  over 
their  cheeks,  and  fell  in  heavy  drops  to  the  floor;  but  not  a 
word  was  spoken.  The  silence  which  reigned  here  ex- 
pressed a  w^orld  of  grief.  With  silent  footsteps,  and  with 
many  a  sob,  they  quitted  the  room. 

A  burning  light  stands  in  the  room,  and  the  long  red  wick 
peers  out  high  above  the  flame  that  flickers  in  the  current  of 
air.  Strange  men  come  in,  and  lay  the  lid  on  the  coffin  over 
the  dead  one,  and  drive  the  nails  firmly  in,  and  the  blows  of 
the  hammer  resound  through  the  house,  and  echo  in  the 
hearts  that  are  bleeding. 

"Whither  art  thou  leading  me?"  asked  the  guardian 
spirit.  "Here  dwells  no  fairy  whose  pearl  might  be  counted 
amongst  the  best  gifts  of  life!'' 

"Here  she  lingers;  here  in  this  sacred  hour,"  said  the 
angel,  and  pointed  to  a  corner  of  the  room ;  and  there,  where 
in  her  lifetime  the  mother  had  taken  her  seat  amid  flowers 
and  pictures ;  there  from  whence,  like  the  beneficent  fairy  of 
the  house,  she  had  greeted  husband,  children,  and  friends; 
from  whence,  like  the  sunbeams,  she  had  spread  joy  and 
cheerfulness,  and  been  the  center  and  the  heart  of  all — there 
sat  a  strange  woman,  clad  in  long  garments.  It  was  "the 
Chastened  Heart,"  now  mistress  and  mother  here  in  the 
dead  lady's  place.  A  hot  tear  rolled  down  into  her  lap,  and 
formed  itself  into  a  pearl  glowing  with  all  the  colors  of  the 
rainbow.  The  angel  seized  it,  and  the  pearl  shone  like  a 
star  of  sevenfold  radiance. 

The  pearl  of  Chastening,  the  last,  which  must  not  be 
wanting!  it  heightens  the  luster  and  the  meaning  of  the 
other  pearls.  Do  you  see  the  sheen  of  the  rainbow — of  the 
bow  that  unites  heaven  and  earth?  A  bridge  has  been  built 
between  this  world  and  the  heaven  beyond.  Through  the 
earthly  night  we  gaze  upward  to  the  stars,  looking  for  per- 
fection. Contemplate  it,  the  pearl  of  Chastening,  for  it 
hides  within  itself  the  wings  that  shall  carry  us  to  the  better 
world. 


130  ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALESL 


THE  STORKS. 

In  the  last  house  in  a  little  village  stood  a  Stork's  nest. 
The  Mother-Stork  sat  in  it  with  her  four  young  ones,  who 
stretched  out  their  heads  with  the  pointed  black  beaks,  for 
their  beaks  had  not  yet  turned  red.  A  little  way  off  stood 
the  Father-Stork,  all  alone  on  the  ridge  of  the  roof,  quite 
upright  and  stiff;  he  had  drawn  up  one  of  his  legs,  so  as  not 
to  be  quite  idle  while  he  stood  sentry.  One  would  have 
thought  he  had  been  carved  out  of  wood,  so  still  did  he 
stand.  He  thought,  "It  must  look  very  grand,  that  my 
wife  has  a  sentry  standing  by  her  nest.  They  can't  tell  that 
it  is  her  husband.  They  certainly  think  I  have  been  com- 
manded to  stand  here.  That  looks  so  aristocratic!"  And 
he  went  on  standing  on  one  leg. 

Below  in  the  street  a  whole  crowd  of  children  were  play- 
ing; and  when  they  caught  sight  of  the  Storks,  one  of  the 
boldest  of  the  boys,  and  afterward  all  of  them,  sang  the  old 
verse  about  the  storks.  But  they  only  sang  it  just  as  he 
could  remember  it: 

"Stork,  stork,  fly  away! 
Stand  not  on  one  leg  to-day. 
Thy  dear  wife  is  in  the  nest, 
Where  she  rocks  her  young  to  rest. 

The  first  he  will  be  hanged, 

The  second  will  be  hit, 
The  third,  he  will  be  shot, 

And  the  fourth  put  on  the  spit." 


"Just  hear  what  those  boys  are  saying!"  said  the  little 
Stork-children.     "They  say  we  are  to  be  hanged  and  killed !" 

"You're  not  to  care  for  that!"  said  the  Mother-Stork. 
"Don't  listen  to  it,  and  then  it  won't  matter." 

But  the  boys  went  on  singing,  and  pointed  at  the  Storks 
mockingly  with  their  fingers ;  only  one  boy,  whose  name  was 
Peter,  declared  that  it  was  a  sin  to  make  a  jest  of  animals, 
and  he  would  not  join  in  it  at  all. 

The  Mother-Stork  comforted  her  children,     "Don't  you 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  131 

mind  it  at  all,"  she  said;  "see  how  quiet  your  father  stands, 
though  it's  only  on  one  leg." 

"We  are  very  much  afraid,"  said  the  young  Storks;  and 
they  drew  their  heads  far  back  into  the  nest. 

Now  to-day,  when  the  children  came  out  again  to  play, 
and  saw  the  Storks,  they  sang  their  song: 

"The  first,  he  will  be  hanged, 
The  second  will  be  hit " 

"Shall  we  be  hanged  and  beaten?"  asked  the  young 
Storks. 

"No,  certainly  not,"  replied  the  mother.  "You  shall  learn 
to  £[y;  I'll  exercise  you;  then  we  shall  fly  out  into  the  mead- 
ows and  pay  a  visit  to  the  frogs;  they  will  bow  before  us  in 
the  water,  and  sing  'Coax!  coax!'  and  then  we  shall  eat 
them  up.     That  will  be  a  real  pleasure." 

"And  What  then?"  asked  the  young  Storks. 

"Then  all  the  Storks  will  assemble,  all  that  are  here  in 
the  whole  country,  and  the  autumn  exercises  begin;  then 
one  must  fly  well,  for  that  is  highly  important,  for  whoever 
cannot  fly  properly  will  be  thrust  dead  by  the  general's 
beak;  so  take  care  and  learn  well  when  the  exercising  be- 
gins." 

"But  then  we  shall  be  killed,  as  the  boy  says — and  only 
listen,  now  they're  singing  again." 

"Listen  to  me  and  not  to  them,"  replied  the  Mother- 
Stork.  "After  the  great  review  we  shall  fly  away  to  the 
warm  countries,  far  away  from  here,  over  mountains  and 
forests.  We  shall  fly  to  Egypt,  Where  there  are  three  cov- 
ered houses  of  stone,  which  curl  in  a  point  and  tower  above 
the  clouds;  they  are  called  pyramids,  and  are  older  than  a 
stork  can  imagine.  There  is  a  river  in  that  country,  which 
runs  out  of  its  bed,  and  then  all  the  land  is  turned  to  mud. 
One  walks  about  in  the  mud,  and  eats  frogs." 

"Oh-h!"  cried  the  young  ones. 

"Yes!  It  is  glorious  there!  One  does  nothing  all  day 
long  but  eat;  and  while  we  are  so  comfortable  over  there, 
here  there  is  not  a  green  leaf  on  the  trees;  here  it  is  so  cold 
that  the  clouds  freeze  to  pieces,  and  fall  down  in  little  white 
rags  1" 

It  was  snow  that  she  meant,  but  she  could  not  explain  it 
in  any  other  way. 


132  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"And  do  the  naughty  boys  freeze  to  pieces?"  asked  the 
young  Storks. 

"No,  they  do  not  freeze  to  pieces;  but  they  are  not  far 
from  it,  and  must  sit  in  a  dark  room  and  cower.  You,  on 
the  other  hand,  can  fly  about  in  foreign  lands,  where  there 
are  flowers,  and  the  sun  shines  warm," 

Now  some  time  had  elapsed,  and  the  nestlings  had  grown 
so  large  that  they  could  stand  upright  in  the  nest  and  look 
far  around;  and  the  Father-Stork  came  every  day  with  de- 
licious frogs,  little  snakes,  and  all  kinds  of  stork-dainties  as 
he  found  them.  Oh!  it  looked  funny  when  he  performed 
feats  before  them!  He  laid  his  head  quite  back  upon  his 
tail,  and  clapped  with  his  beak  as  if  he  had  been  a  Httle 
clapper;  and  then  he  told  them  stories,  all  about  the 
marshes. 

"Listen!  now  you  must  learn  to  fly,"  said  the  Mother- 
Stork,  one  day;  and  all  the  four  young  ones  had  to  go  out 
on  the  ridge  of  the  roof.  Oh,  how  they  tottered!  how  they 
balanced  themselves  with  their  wings,  and  yet  they  were 
nearly  falling  down. 

"Only  look  at  me,"  said  the  Mother.  "Thus  you  must 
hold  your  heads!  Thus  you  must  pitch  your  feet!  One, 
two!  one,  two!     That's  what  will  help  you  on  in  the  world." 

Then  she  flew  a  little  way,  and  the  young  ones  made  a 
little  clumsy  leap.  Bump! — there  they  lay,  for  their  bodies 
were  too  heavy. 

"I  will  not  fly!"  said  one  of  the  young  Storks,  and  crept 
back  into  the  nest;  "I  don't  care  about  getting  to  the  warm 
countries." 

"Do  you  want  to  freeze  to  death  here  when  the  winter 
comes?  Are  the  boys  to  come  and  hang  you,  and  singe 
you,  and  roast  you?     Now  I'll  call  them." 

"Oh,  no!"  cried  the  young  Stork,  and  hopped  out  on  to 
the  roof  again  like  the  rest. 

On  the  third  day  they  could  actually  fly  a  little,  and  then 
they  thought  they  could  also  soar  and  hover  in  the  air. 
They  tried  it,  but — bump! — down  they  tumbled,  and  they 
had  to  flap  their  wings  again  quickly  enough.  Now  the 
boys  came  into  the  street  again,  and  sang  their  song: 

"Stork,  stork,  fly  away!" 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES,  133 

"Shall  we  fly  down  and  pick  their  eyes  out?"  asked  the 
young  Storks. 

"No,"  replied  the  mother,  "let  them  alone.  Only  listen 
to  me,  that's  far  more  important.  One,  two,  three! — now 
we  fly  round  to  the  right.  One,  two,  three! — now  to  the 
left  round  the  chimney.  See,  that  was  very  good!  the  last 
kick  with  the  feet  was  so  neat  and  correct  that  you  shall 
have  permission  to-morrow  to  fly  with  me  to  the  marsh! 
Several  nice  stork  families  go  there  with  their  young;  sliov/ 
them  that  mine  are  the  nicest,  and  that  you  can  start  proud- 
ly; that  looks  well,  and  will  get  you  consideration." 

"But  are  we  not  to  take  revenge  on  the  rude  boys?"  asked 
the  young  Storks. 

"Let  them  scream  as  much  as  they  like.  You  will  fly  up 
to  the  clouds,  and  get  to  the  land  of  the  pyramids,  when 
they  will  have  to  shiver,  and  not  have  a  green  leaf  or  a 
sweet  apple." 

"Yes,  but  we  will  revenge  ourselves!"  they  whispered  to 
one  another;  and  then  the  exercising  went  on. 

Among  all  the  boys  down  in  the  street,  the  one  most  bent 
upon  singing  the  teasing  song  was  he  who  had  begun  it, 
and  he  was  quite  a  little  boy.  He  could  hardly  be  more 
than  six  years  old.  The  young  Storks  certainly  thought  he 
was  a  hundred,  for  he  was  much  bigger  than  their  mother 
and  father;  and  how  should  they  know  how  old  children 
and  grown-up  people  can  be?  Their  revenge  was  to  come 
upon  this  boy,  for  it  was  he  who  had  begun,  and  he  always 
kept  on.  The  young  Storks  were  very  angry;  and  as  they 
grew  bigger  they  were  less  inclined  to  bear  it;  at  last  their 
mother  had  to  promise  them  that  they  should  be  revenged, 
but  not  till  the  last  day  of  their  stay. 

"We  must  first  see  how  you  behave  at  the  grand  review. 
If  you  get  through  badly,  so  that  the  general  stabs  you 
through  the  chest  with  his  beak,  the  boys  will  be  right,  at 
least,  in  one  way.     Let  us  see." 

"Yes,  you  shall  see!"  cried  the  young  Storks;  and  then 
they  took  all  imaginable  pains.  They  practiced  every  day, 
and  flew  so  neatly  and  so  lightly  that  it  was  a  pleasure  to  see 
them. 

Now  the  autumn  came  on;  all  the  Storks  began  to  as- 
semble, to  fly  away  to  the  warm  countries  while  it  is  winter 
here.     That  was  a  review.     They  had  to  fly  over  forests 


134  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

and  villages,  to  show  how  well  they  could  soar,  for  it  was  a 
long  journey  they  had  before  them.  The  young  Storks  did 
their  part  so  well  that  they  got  as  a  mark,  "Remarkably 
well,  with  frogs  and  snakes."  That  was  the  highest  mark; 
and  they  might  eat  the  frogs  and  snakes;  and  that  is  what 
they  did. 

"Now  we  will  be  revenged!"  they  said. 

"Yes,  certainly!"  said  the  Mother-Stork.  "What  I  have 
thought  of  will  be  the  best.  I  know  the  pond  in  which  all 
the  little  mortals  lie  till  the  stork  comes  and  brings  them  to 
their  parents.  The  pretty  little  babies  lie  there  and  dream 
so  sweetly  as  they  never  dream  afterward.  All  parents  are 
glad  to  have  such  a  child,  and  all  children  want  to  have  a 
sister  or  a  brother.  Now  we  will  fly  to  the  pond,  and  bring 
one  for  each  of  the  children  who  have  not  sung  the  naughty 
song  and  laughed  at  the  storks." 

"But  he  who  began  to  sing — ^that  naughty,  ugly  boy!" 
screamed  the  young  Storks;  "what  shall  we  do  with  him?" 

"There  is  a  little  dead  child  in  the  pond,  one  that  has 
dreamed  itself  to  death;  we  will  bring  that  for  him..  Then 
he  will  cry  because  we  have  brought  him  a  little  dead  broth- 
er. But  that  good  boy — you  have  not  forgotten  him,  the 
one  who  said,  Tt  is  wrong  to  laugh  at  animals!'  for  him  we 
will  bring  a  brother  and  a  sister  too.  And  as  his  name  is 
Peter,  all  of  you  shall  be  called  Peter,  too." 

And  it  was  done  as  she  said;  all  the  storks  were  named 
Peter,  and  so  they  are  all  called  even  now. 


GRANDMOTHER. 

Grandmother  is  very  old;  she  has  many  wrinkles,  and 
her  hair  is  quite  white;  but  her  eyes,  which  are  like  two 
stars,  and  even  more  beautiful,  look  at  you  mildly  and  pleas- 
antly, and  it  does  you  good  to  look  into  them.  And  then 
she  can  tell  the  most  wonderful  stories;  and  she  has  a 
gown  with  great  flowers  Avorked  in  it,  and  it  is  of  heavy  silk, 
and  it  rustles.  Grandmother  knows  a  great  deal,  for  she 
was  alive  before  father  and  mother,  that's  quite  certain! 
Grandmother  has  a  hymn  book  with  great  silver  clasps,  and 
she  often  reads  in  that  book;   in  the  middle  of  the  book 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  135 

lies  a  rose,  quite  flat  and  dry;  it  is  not  as  pretty  as  the  roses 
she  has  standing  in  the  glass,  and  yet  she  smiles  at  it  most 
pleasantly  of  all,  and  tears  even  come  into  her  eyes.  I 
wonder  why  Grandmother  looks  at  the  withered  flower  in 
the  old  book  in  that  way?  Do  you  know?  Why,  each  time 
that  Grandmother's  tears  fall  upon  the  rose,  its  colors  be- 
come fresh  again;  the  rose  swells  and  fills  the  whole  room 
with  its  fragrance;  the  walls  sink  as  if  they  were  but  mist, 
and  all  around  her  is  the  glorious  green  wood,  where  in 
summer  the  sunlight  streams  through  the  leaves  of  the  trees; 
and  Grandmother — why,  she  is  young  again,  a  charming 
maid  with  light  curls  and  full  blooming  cheeks,  pretty  and 
graceful,  fresh  as  any  rose;  but  the  eyes,  the  mild  blessed 
eyes,  they  have  been  left  to  Grandmother.  At  her  side  sits 
a  young  man,  tall  and  strong;  he  gives  the  rose  to  her,  and 
she  smiles ;  Grandmother  cannot  smile  thus  now ! — yes,  now 
she  smiles!  But  now  he  has  passed  away,  and  many  thoughts 
and  many  forms  of  the  past ;  and  the  handsome  young  man 
is  gone,  and  the  rose  lies  in  the  hymn  book,  and  Grandmoth- 
er sits  there  again,  an  old  woman,  and  glances  down  at  the 
withered  rose  that  lies  in  the  book. 

Now  Grandmother  is  dead.  She  had  been  sitting  in  her 
armchair,  and  telling  a  long,  long,  capital  tale;  and  she 
said  the  tale  was  told  now,  and  she  was  tired;  and  she  leaned 
her  head  back  to  sleep  awhile.  One  could  hear  her  breath- 
ing as  she  slept;  but  it  became  quieter  and  more  quiet, 
and  her  countenance  was  full  of  happiness  and  peace;  it 
seemed  as  if  a  sunshine  spread  over  her  features;  and  she 
smiled  again,  and  then  the  people  said  she  was  dead. 

She  was  laid  in  the  black  coflin;  and  there  she  lay 
shrouded  in  the  white  linen  folds,  looking  beautiful  and 
mild,  though  her  eyes  were  closed;  but  every  wrinkle  had 
vanished,  and  there  was  a  smile  around  her  mouth;  her 
hair  was  silver-white  and  venerable ;  and  we  did  not  feel  at 
all  afraid  to  look  at  the  corpse  of  her  who  had  been  the 
dear  good  Grandmother.  And  the  hymn  book  was  placed 
under  her  head,  for  she  had  wished  it  so,  and  the  rose  was 
still  in  the  old  book;  and  then  they  buried  Grandmother. 

On  the  grave,  close  by  the  churchyard  wall,  they  planted 
a  rose  tree;  and  it  was  full  of  roses;  and  the  nightingale 
flew  singing  over  the  flowers  and  over  the  grave.  In  the 
church  the   finest   psalms    sounded   from    the    organ — the 


136  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

psalms  that  were  written  in  the  old  book  under  the  dead 
one's  head.  The  moon  shone  down  upon  the  grave,  but 
the  dead  one  was  not  there.  Every  child  could  go  safely, 
even  at  night,  and  pluck  a  rose  there  by  the  churchyard 
wall.  A  dead  person  knows  more  than  all  we  living  ones. 
The  dead  know  what  a  terror  would  come  upon  us,  if  the 
strange  thing  were  to  happen  that  they  appeared  among  us; 
the  dead  are  better  than  we  all;  the  dead  return  no  more. 
The  earth  has  been  heaped  over  the  coffin,  and  it  is  earth 
that  lies  in  the  coffin ;  and  the  leaves  of  the  hymn  book  are 
dust,  and  the  rose,  with  all  its  recollections,  has  returned  to 
dust  likewise.  But  above  there  bloom  fresh  roses ;  the  night- 
ingale sings  and  the  organ  sounds,  and  the  remembrance 
lives  of  the  old  Grandmother  with  the  mild  eyes  that  always 
looked  young.  Eyes  can  never  die!  Ours  will  once  be- 
hold Grandmother  again,  young  and  beautiful,  as  when  for 
the  first  time  she  kissed  the  fresh  red  rose  that  is  now  dust 
in  the  grave. 


THE  UGLY  DUCKLING. 

It  was  glorious  out  in  the  country.  It  was  summer,  and 
the  cornfields  were  yellow,  and  the  oats  were  green;  the  hay 
had  been  put  up  in  stacks  in  the  green  meadows,  and  the 
stork  went  about  on  his  long  red  legs,  and  chattered 
Egyptian,  for  this  was  the  language  he  had  learned  from 
his  good  mother.  All  around  the  fields  and  meadows  were 
great  forests,  and  in  the  midst  of  these  forests  lay  deep  lakes. 
Yes,  it  was  really  glorious  out  in  the  country.  In  the  midst 
of  the  sunshine  there  lay  an  old  farm,  surrounded  by  deep 
canals,  and  from  the  wall  down  to  the  water  grew  great 
burdocks,  so  high  that  little  children  could  stand  upright 
under  the  loftiest  of  them.  It  was  just  as  wild  there  as  in 
the  deepest  wood.  Here  sat  a  Duck  upon  her  nest,  for  she 
had  to  hatch  her  young  ones;  but  she  was  almost  tired  out 
before  the  little  ones  came;  and  then  she  so  seldom  had 
visitors.  The  other  ducks  liked  better  to  swim  about  in  the 
canals  than  to  run  up  to  sit  down  under  a  burdock,  and 
cackle  with  her. 

At  last  one  eggshell  after  another  burst  open.     "Piep! 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  137 

piep!"  it  cried,  and  in  all  the  eggs  there  were  little  creatures 
tnai  stuck  out  their  heads. 

"Rap!  rap!"  they  said;  and  they  all  came  rapping  out 
as  fast  as  they  could,  looking  all  round  them  under  the  green 
leaves;  and  the  mother  let  them  look  as  much  as  they  chose, 
for  green  is  good  for  the  eyes. 

"How  wide  the  world  is!"  said  the  young  ones,  for  they 
certainly  had  much  more  room  now  than  when  they  were  in 
the  eggs. 

"Do  you  think  this  is  all  the  world!"  asked  the  mother. 
"That  extends  far  across  the  other  side  of  the  garden,  quite 
into  the  parson's  field,  but  I  have  never  been  there  yet.  I 
hope  you  are  all  together,"  she  continued,  and  stood  up. 
"No,  I  have  not  all.  The  largest  egg  still  lies  there.  How 
long  is  that  to  last?  I  am  really  tired  of  it."  And  she  sat 
down  again. 

"Well,  how  goes  it?"  asked  an  old  Duck  who  had  come 
to  pay  her  a  visit. 

"It  lasts  a  long  time  with  that  one  egg,"  said  the  Duck  who 
sat  there.  "It  will  not  burst.  Now,  only  look  at  the  others ; 
are  they  not  the  prettiest  ducks  one  could  possibly  see? 
They  are  all  like  their  father;  the  bad  fellow  never  comes  to 
see  me." 

"Let  me  see  the  egg  which  will  not  burst,"  said  the  old 
visitor.  "Believe  me,  it  is  a  turkey's  egg.  I  was  once 
cheated  in  that  way,  and  had  much  anxiety  and  trouble  with 
the  young  ones,  for  they  are  afraid  of  the  water.  I  could 
not  get  them  to  venture  in.  I  quacked  and  clucked,  but  it 
was  of  no  use.  Let  me  see  the  egg.  Yes,  that's  a  turkey's 
egg\  Let  it  lie  there,  and  you  teach  the  other  children  to 
swim." 

"I  think  I  will  sit  on  it  a  little  longer,"  said  the  Duck. 
"I've  sat  so  long  now  that  I  can  sit  a  few  days  more." 

"Just  as  you  please,"  said  the  old  Duck;  and  she  went 
away. 

At  last  the  great  egg  burst.  "Piep!  Piep!"  said  the  little 
one,  and  crept  forth.  It  was  very  large  and  very  ugly.  The 
Duck  looked  at  it. 

"It's  a  very  large  duckling,"  said  she ;  "none  of  the  others 
look  like  that;  can  it  really  be  a  turkey  chick?  Now  we 
shall  soon  find  it  out.  It  must  go  into  the  water,  even  if  I 
have  to  thrust  it  in  myself." 


138  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

The  next  day  the  weather  was  splendidly  bright,  and  the 
sun  shone  on  all  the  green  trees.  The  Mother-Duck  went 
down  to  the  water  with  all  her  little  ones.  Splash!  she 
jumped  into  the  water.  "Quack!  quack!"  she  said,  and 
then  one  duckling  after  another  plunged  in.  The  water 
closed  over  their  heads,  but  they  came  up  in  an  instant,  and 
swam  capitally;  their  legs  went  of  themselves,  and  there 
they  were,  all  in  the  water.  The  ugly  gray  Duckling  swam 
with  them. 

"No,  it's  not  a  turkey,"  said  she;  "look  how  well  it  can 
use  its  legs,  and  how  upright  it  holds  itself.  It  is  my  own 
child !  On  the  whole  it's  quite  pretty,  if  one  looks  at  it  right- 
ly. Quack!  quack!  come  with  me,  and  I'll  lead  you  out 
into  the  great  world,  and  present  you  in  the  poultry-yard; 
but  keep  close  to  me,  so  that  no  one  may  tread  on  you;  and 
take  care  of  the  cats!" 

And  so  they  came  into  the  poultry-yard.  There  was  a 
terrible  riot  going  on  in  there,  for  two  families  were  quarrel- 
ing about  an  eel's  head,  and  the  cat  got  it  after  all. 

"See,  that's  how  it  goes  in  the  world!"  said  the  Alother- 
Duck;  and  she  whetted  her  beak,  for  she,  too,  wanted  the 
eel's  head.  "Only  use  your  legs,"  she  said.  "See  that  you 
bustle  about,  and  bow  your  heads  before  the  old  Duck 
yonder.  She's  the  grandest  of  all  here;  she's  of  Spanish 
blood — that's  why  she's  so  fat;  and  do  you  see,  she  has  a 
red  rag  round  her  leg;  that's  something  particularly  fine, 
and  the  greatest  distinction  a  duck  can  enjoy;  it  signifies 
that  one  does  not  want  to  lose  her,  and  that  she's  to  be 
recognized  by  man  and  beast.  Shake  yourselves — don't 
turn  in  your  toes;  a  well-brought-up  Duck  turns  its  toes 
quite  out,  just  like  father  and  mother,  so!  Now  bend  your 
necks  and  say  'Rap !' " 

And  they  did  so;  but  the  other  Ducks  round  about  looked 
at  them,  and  said  quite  boldly: 

"Look  there!  now  we're  to  have  these  hanging  on,  as  if 
there  were  not  enough  of  us  already!  And — fie — !  how  that 
Duckling  yonder  looks;  we  won't  stand  that!"  And  one 
duck  flew  up  immediately,  and  bit  it  in  the  neck. 

"Let  it  alone,"  said  the  mother;  "it  does  no  harm  to  any- 
one." 

"Yes,  but  it's  too  large  and  peculiar,"  said  the  Duck  who 
had  bitten  it;  "and  therefore  it  must  be  bufifeted." 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  139 

"Those  are  pretty  children  that  the  mother  has  there,"  said 
the  old  Duck  with  the  rag  round  her  leg.  "They're  all  pretty 
but  that  one;  that  was  a  failure.  I  wish  she  could  alter 
it." 

"That  cannot  be  done,  my  lady,"  replied  the  Mother- 
Duck.  "It  is  not  pretty,  but  it  has  a  really  good  disposition, 
and  swims  as  well  as  any  other;  I  may  even  say  it  swims 
better.  I  think  it  will  grow  up  pretty,  and  become  smaller 
in  time ;  it  has  lain  too  long  in  the  egg,  and  therefore  is  not 
properly  shaped."  And  then  she  pinched  it  in  the  neck, 
and  smoothed  its  feathers.  "Moreover,  it  is  a  drake,"  she 
said,  "and  therefore  it  is  not  of  so  much  consequence.  I 
think  he  will  be  very  strong;    he  makes  his  way  alread}-." 

"The  other  ducklings  are  graceful  enough,"  said  the  old 
Duck.  "Make  yourself  at  home;  and  if  you  find  an  eel's 
head,  you  may  bring  it  me." 

And  now  they  were  at  home.  But  the  poor  Duckling 
which  had  crept  last  out  of  the  egg,  and  looked  so  ugly, 
was  bitten  and  pushed  and  jeered,  as  much  by  the  ducks  as 
by  the  chickens. 

"It  is  too  big!"  they  all  said.  And  the  turkey-cock,  who 
had  been  born  with  spurs,  and  therefore  thought  himself  an 
Emperor  blew  himself  up  like  a  ship  in  full  sail,  and  bore 
straight  down  upon  it;  then  he  gobbled,  and  grew  quite  red 
in  the  face.  The  poor  Duckling  did  not  know  where  it 
should  stand  or  walk;  it  was  quite  melancholy,  because  it 
looked  ugly  and  was  scofifed  at  by  the  whole  yard. 

So  it  went  on  the  first  day;  and  afterward  it  became  worse 
and  worse.  The  poor  Duckling  was  hunted  about  by  every- 
one; even  its  brothers  and  sisters  were  quite  angry  with  it, 
and  said,  "If  the  cat  would  only  catch  you,  you  ugly 
creature!"  And  the  mother  said,  "If  you  were  only  far 
away!"  And  the  ducks  bit  it,  and  the  chickens  beat  it, 
and  the  girl  who  had  to  feed  the  poultry  kicked  at  it  with 
her  foot. 

Then  it  ran  and  flew  over  the  fence,  and  the  little  birds 
in  the  bushes  flew  up  in  fear. 

"That  is  because  I  am  so  ugly!"  thought  the  Duckling; 
and  it  shut  its  eyes,  but  flew  no  further;  thus  it  came  out 
into  the  great  moor,  where  the  Wild  Ducks  lived.  Here  it 
lay  the  whole  night  long;  and  it  was  weary  and  downcast. 


140  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

Toward  morning  the  Wild  Ducks  flew  up,  and  looked  at 
their  new  companion. 

"What  sort  of  a  one  are  you?"  they  asked;  and  the  Duck- 
ling turned  in  every  direction,  and  bowed  as  well  as  it  could. 
"You  are  remarkably  ugly!"  said  the  Wild  Ducks.  "But 
that  is  very  indifferent  to  us,  so  long  as  you  do  not  marry 
into  our  family." 

Poor  thing!  It  certainly  did  not  think  of  marrying,  and 
only  hoped  to  obtain  leave  to  lie  among  the  reeds  and  drink 
some  of  the  swamp-water. 

Thus  it  lay  two  whole  days;  then  came  thither  two  Wild 
Geese,  or,  properly  speaking,  two  wild  ganders.  It  was 
not  long  since  each  had  crept  out  of  an  egg,  and  that's  why 
they  were  so  saucy. 

"Listen  comrade,"  said  one  of  them.  "You're  so  ugly 
that  I  like  you.  Will  you  go  with  us,  and  become  a  bird  of 
passage?  Near  here,  in  another  moor,  there  are  a  few 
sweet  lovely  wild  geese,  all  unmarried,  and  all  able  to  say 
'Rap!'  You've  a  chance  of  making  your  fortune,  ugly  as 
you  are!" 

"Piff!  paff!"  resounded  through  the  air;  and  the  two 
ganders  fell  down  dead  in  the  swamp,  and  the  water  be- 
came blood-red.  "Piff!  paf¥!"  it  sounded  again,  and  whole 
flocks  of  wild  geese  rose  up  from  the  reeds.  And  then 
there  was  another  report.  A  great  hunt  was  going  on.  The 
hunters  were  lying  in  wait  all  round  the  moor,  and  some 
were  even  sitting  up  in  the  branches  of  the  trees  which  spread 
far  over  the  reeds.  The  blue  smoke  rose  up  like  clouds  among 
the  dark  trees,  and  was  wafted  far  away  across  the  water; 
and  the  hunting  dogs  came — splash,  splash! — into  the 
swamp,  and  the  rushes  and  the  reeds  bent  down  on  every 
side.  That  was  a  fright  for  the  poor  Duckling!  It  turned 
its  head,  and  put  it  under  its  wing;  but  at  that  moment  a 
frightful  great  dog  stood  close  by  the  Duckling!  His  tongue 
hung  far  out  of  his  mouth  and  his  eyes  gleamed  horrible 
and  ugly;  he  thrust  out  his  nose  close  against  the  Duckling, 
showed  his  sharp  teeth,  and — splash,  splash! — on  he  went 
without  seizing  it. 

"Oh,  Heaven  be  thanked!"  sighed  the  Duckling.  "I  am 
so  ugly,  that  even  the  dog  does  not  like  to  bite  me!'' 

And  so  it  lay  quite  quiet,  while  the  shots  rattled  through 
the  reeds  and  gun  after  gun  was  fired.    At  last,  late  in  the 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES,  141 

day,  silence  was  restored;  but  the  poor  Duckling  did  not 
dare  to  rise  up;  it  waited  several  hours  before  it  looked 
round,  and  then  hastened  away  out  of  the  moor  as  fast  as 
it  could.  It  ran  on  over  field  and  meadow;  there  was  such  a 
storm  raging  that  it  was  difficult  to  get  from  one  place  to 
another. 

Toward  evening  the  Duck  came  to  a  little  miserable  peas- 
ant's hut.  This  hut  was  so  dilapidated  that  it  did  not  know 
on  which  side  it  should  fall;  and  that's  why  it  remained 
standing.  The  storm  whistled  round  the  Duckling  in  such 
a  way  that  the  poor  creature  was  obliged  to  sit  down,  to 
stand  against  it;  and  the  tempest  grew  worse  and  worse. 
Then  the  Duckling  noticed  that  one  of  the  hinges  of  the 
door  had  given  way,  and  the  door  hung  so  slanting  that  the 
Duckling  could  slip  through  the  crack  into  the  room;  and 
it  did  so. 

Here  lived  a  woman,  with  her  Tom  Cat  and  her  Hen. 
And  the  Tom  Cat,  whom  she  called  Sonnie,  could  arch  his 
back  and  purr,  he  could  even  give  out  sparks;  but  for  that 
one  had  to  stroke  his  fur  the  wrong  way.  The  Hen  had 
quite  little  short  legs,  and  therefore  she  was  called  Chicka- 
biddy-shortshanks ;  she  laid  good  eggs^  and  the  woman 
loved  her  as  her  own  child. 

In  the  morning  the  strange  Duckling  was  at  once  no- 
ticed, and  the  Tom  Cat  began  to  purr,  and  the  Hen  to 
cluck. 

"What's  this?"  said  the  woman,  and  looked  all  round;  but 
she  could  not  see  well,  and  therefore  she  thought  the  Duck- 
ling was  a  fat  duck  that  had  strayed.  "This  is  a  rare  prize," 
she  said.  "Now  I  shall  have  duck's  eggs.  I  hope  it  is  not  a 
drake.    We  must  try  that." 

And  so  the  Duckling  was  admitted  on  trial  for  three 
weeks;  but  no  eggs  came.  And  the  Tom  Cat  was  master  of 
the  house,  and  the  Hen  was  the  lady,  and  they  always  said 
"We  and  the  world!"  for  they  thought  they  were  half  the 
world,  and  by  far  the  better  half.  The  Duckling  thought 
one  might  have  a  different  opinion,  but  the  Hen  would  not 
allow  it. 

"Can  you  lay  eggs?"  she  asked. 

"No." 

"Then  you'll  have  the  goodness  to  hold  your  tongue." 


142  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

And  the  Tom  Cat  said,  "Can  you  curve  your  back,  and 
purr,  and  give  out  sparks?" 

"No." 

"Then  you  cannot  have  any  opinion  of  your  own  when 
sensible  people  are  speaking." 

And  the  Duckling  sat  in  a  corner  and  was  melancholy; 
then  the  fresh  air  and  the  sunshine  streamed  in;  and  it  was 
seized  with  such  a  strange  longing  to  swim  on  the  water, 
that  it  could  not  help  telling  the  Hen  of  it. 

"What  are  you  thinking  of?"  cried  the  Hen.  "You  have 
nothing  to  do,  that's  why  you  have  these  fancies.  Purr  or 
lay  eggs,  and  they  will  pass  over." 

"But  it  is  so  charming  to  swim  on  the  v/ater!"  said  the 
Duckling,  "so  refreshing  to  let  it  close  above  one's  head, 
and  to  dive  down  to  the  bottom." 

"Yes,  that  must  be  a  mighty  pleasure,  truly,"  quoth  the 
Hen.  "I  fancy  you  must  have  gone  crazy.  Ask  the  Cat 
about  it — he's  the  cleverest  animal  I  know — ask  him  if  he 
likes  to  swim  on  the  water,  or  to  dive  down :  I  won't  speak 
about  myself.  Ask  our  mistress,  the  old  woman;  no  one 
in  the  world  is  cleverer  than  she.  Do  you  think  she  has  any 
desire  to  swim,  and  to  let  the  water  close  above  her  head?" 

"You  don't  understand  me,"  said  the  Duckling. 

"We  don't  understand  you?  Then  pray  who  is  to  under- 
stand you?  You  surely  don't  pretend  to  be  cleverer  than 
the  Tom  Cat  and  the  old  woman — I  won't  say  anything  of 
myself.  Don't  be  conceited,  child,  and  be  grateful  for  all 
the  kindness  you  have  received.  Did  you  not  get  into  a  warm 
room,  and  have  you  not  fallen  into  company  from  which 
you  may  learn  something?  But  you  are  a  chatterer,  and  it 
is  not  pleasant  to  associate  with  you.  You  may  believe  me, 
I  speak  for  your  good.  I  tell  you  disagreeable  things,  and 
by  that  one  may  always  know  one's  true  friends.  Only  take 
care  that  you  learn  to  lay  eggs,  or  to  purr  and  give  out 
sparks!" 

"I  think  I  will  go  out  into  the  wide  world,"  said  the  Duck- 
ling. 

"Yes,  do  go,"  replied  the  Hen. 

And  the  Duckling  went  away.  It  swam  on  the  water, 
and  dived,  but  it  was  slighted  by  every  creature  because  of 
its  ugliness. 

Now  came  the  autumn.    The  leaves  in  the  forest  turned 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  143 

yellow  and  brown;    the  wind  caught  them   so  that  they 
danced  about,  and  up  in  the  air  it  was  very  cold.    The  clouds 
hung  low,  heavy  with  hail  and  snow-flakes,  and  on  the  fence 
stood  the  raven,  crying,  "Croak!  croak!"  for  mere  cold- 
yes,  It  was  enough  to  make  one  feel  cold  to  think  of  this' 
Ihe  poor  little  Duckling  certainly  had  not  a  good  time 
One   evenmg— the   sun   was  just  setting  in   his   beauty- 
there  came  a  whole  flock  of  great  handsome  birds  out  of  the 
bushes;  they  were  dazzhngiy  white,  with  long  flexible  necks- 
they  were  swans.    They  uttered  a  very  peculiar  cry,  spread 
forth  their  glorious  great  wings,  and  flew  away  from  that 
cold   region  to   warmer  lands,  to   fair  open   lakes      They 
mounted  so  high,  so  high!  and  the  ugly  httle  Duckling  felt 
quite  strangely  as  it  watched  them.     It  turned  round  and 
round  m  the  water  like  a  wheel,   stretched   out  its   neck 
toward  them,  and  uttered  such  a  strange  loud  cry  as  frio-ht- 
ened  itself.     Oh!  it  could  not  forget  those  beautiful,  happy 
birds;  and  so  soon  as  it  could  see  them  no  longer,  it  dived 
down  to  the  very  bottom,  and  when  it  came  up  'again    it 
was  quite  beside  itself.    It  knew  not  the  name  of  those  birds 
and  knew  not  whither  they  were  flying;    but  it  loved  them' 
more  than  it  had  ever  loved  anyone.     It  was  not  at  all 
envious  of  them.    How  could  it  think  of  wishing  to  possess 
such  loveliness  as  they  had?  It  would  have  been  glad  if 
only  the  ducks  would  have  endured  its  company— the  ooor 
ugly  creature! 

And  the  winter  grew  cold,  very  cold!  The  Duckling  was 
forced  to  swim  about  in  the  water,  to  prevent  the  surface 
•from  freezing  entirely;  but  every  night  the  hole  in  which  it 
swam  about  became  smaller  and  smaller.  It  froze  so  hard 
that  the  icy  covering  crackled  again;  and  the  Duckling  was 
obliged  to  use  its  legs  continually  to  prevent  the  hole  from 
freezing  up.  At  last  it  became  exhausted,  and  lay  quite  still 
and  thus  froze  fast  into  the  ice. 

Early  in  the  morning  a  peasant  came  by,  and  when  he 
saw  what  had  happened,  he  took  his  wooden  shoe,  broke  the 
ice-crust  to  pieces,  and  carried  the  Duckling  home  to  his 
wife.  Then  it  came  to  itself  again.  The  children  wanted  to 
play  with  It;  but  the  Duckling  thought  they  would  do  it 
an  injury,  and  in  its  terror  fluttered  up  into  the  milk-par 
so  that  the  milk  spurted  down  into  the  room.  The  wom-^n 
clasped  her  hands,  at  which  the  Duckling  flew  down  into  the 


144  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

butter-tub,  and  then  into  the  meal-barrel  and  out  again. 
How  it  looked  then!  The  woman  screamed,  and  struck  at 
it  with  the  fire-tongs;  the  children  tumbled  over  one  another, 
in  their  efforts  to  catch  the  Duckling;  and  they  laughed  and 
screamed  finely!  Happily  the  door  stood  open,  and  the  poor 
creature  was  able  to  slip  out  between  the  shrubs  into  the 
newly-fallen  snow;   and  there  it  lay  quite  exhausted. 

But  it  would  be  too  melancholy  if  I  were  to  tell  all  the 
misery  and  care  which  the  Duckling  had  to  endure  in  the 
hard  winter.  It  lay  out  on  the  moor  among  the  reeds,  when 
the  sun  began  to  shine  again  and  the  larks  to  sing;  it  was  a 
beautiful  spring. 

Then  all  at  once  the  Duckling  could  flap  its  wings;  they 
beat  the  air  m.ore  strongh^  than  before,  and  bore  it  strongly 
away;  and  before  it  well  knew  how  all  this  had  happened, 
it  found  itself  in  a  great  garden,  where  the  elder  trees  smelt 
sweet,  and  bent  their  long  green  branches  down  to  the 
canal  that  wound  through  the  region.  Oh,  here  it  was  so 
beautiful,  such  a  gladness  of  spring!  and  from  the  thicket 
came  three  glorious  white  swans;  they  rustled  their  wings, 
and  swam  lightly  on  the  water.  The  Duckling  knew  the 
splendid  creatures,  and  felt  oppressed  by  a  peculiar  sad- 
ness. 

*T  will  fly  away  to  them,  to  the  royal  birds!  and  they  will 
kill  me,  because  I,  that  am  so  ugly,  dare  to  approach  them. 
But  it  is  of  no  consequence!  Better  to  be  killed  by  them 
than  to  be  pursued  by  ducks,  and  beaten  by  fowls,  and 
pushed  about  by  the  girl  who  takes  care  of  the  poultry- 
yard,  and  to  suffer  hunger  in  winter!"  And  it  flew  out  into 
the  water,  and  swam  toward  the  beautiful  swans:  these 
looked  at  it,  and  came  sailing  down  upon  it  with  outspread 
wings.  "Kill  me!"  said  the  poor  creature,  and  bent  its 
head  down  upon  the  water,  expecting  nothing  but  death. 
But  what  was  this  that  it  saw  in  the  clear  water?  It  be- 
held its  own  image — and,  lo!  it  was  no  longer  a  clumsy  dark- 
gray  bird,  ugly  and  hateful  to  look  at,  but — a  swan. 

It  matters  nothing  if  one  was  born  in  a  duck-yard,  if  one 
has  only  lain  in  a  swan's  &gg. 

It  felt  quite  glad  at  all  the  need  and  misfortune  it  had 
suffered,  now  it  realized  its  happiness  in  all  the  splendor 
that  surrounded  it.  And  the  great  swans  swam  round  it, 
and  stroked  it  with  their  beaks. 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  145 

Into  the  garden  came  little  children,  who  threw  bread  and 
corn  into  the  water;  the  youngest  cried,  "There  is  a  new 
one!"  and  the  other  children  shouted  joyously,  "Yes,  a  new 
one  has  arrived!"  And  they  clapped  their  hands  and  danced 
about,  and  ran  to  their  father  and  mother;  and  bread  and 
cake  were  thrown  into  the  water;  and  they  all  said,  "The 
new  one  is  the  most  beautiful  of  all!  so  young  and  hand- 
some!" and  the  old  swans  bowed  their  heads  before  him. 

Then  he  felt  quite  ashamed,  and  hid  his  head  under  his 
wing,  for  he  did  not  know  what  to  do;  he  was  so  happy, 
and  yet  not  at  all  proud.  He  thought  how  he  had  been  per- 
secuted and  despised;  and  now  he  heard  them  saying  that  he 
was  the  most  beautiful  of  all  the  birds.  Even  the  elder 
tree  bent  its  branches  straight  down  into  the  water  before 
him,  and  the  sun  shone  warm  and  mild.  Then  his  wings 
rustled,  he  lifted  his  slender  neck,  and  cried  rejoicingly 
from  the  depths  of  his  heart: 

"I  never  dreamed  of  so  much  happiness  when  I  was  still 
the  Ugly  Duckling!" 


THE  LOVELIEST  ROSE  IN  THE  WORLD. 

Once  there  reigned  a  Queen,  in  whose  garden  were  found 
the  most  glorious  flowers  at  all  seasons,  and  from  all  the 
lands  in  the  world;  but  especially  she  loved  roses,  and 
therefore  she  possessed  the  most  various  kinds  of  this 
flower,  from  the  wild  dog-rose,  with  the  apple-scented  green 
leaves,  to  the  most  splendid  Provence  rose.  They  grew 
against  the  earth  walls,  wound  themselves  round  pillars  and 
window  frames,  into  the  passages,  and  all  along  the  ceiling 
in  all  the  halls.  And  the  roses  were  various  in  fragrance, 
form,  and  color. 

But  care  and  sorrow  dwelt  in  these  halls:  the  Queen  lay 
upon  a  sick-bed,  and  the  doctors  declared  that  she  must  die. 

"There  is  still  one  thing  that  can  serve  her,"  said  the 
W'isest  of  them.  "Bring  her  the  loveliest  rose  in  the  world, 
the  one  which  is  the  expression  of  the  brightest  and  purest 
love;  for  if  that  is  brought  before  her  eyes  ere  they  close, 
she  will  not  die." 

And  the  young  and  old  came  from  every  side  with  roses, 

JO 


146  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

the  loveliest  that  bloomed  in  each  garden;  but  they  were 
not  the  right  sort.  The  flower  was  to  be  brought  out  of  the 
garden  of  Love;  but  what  rose  was  it  there  that  expressed 
the  highest  and  purest  love? 

And  the  poets  sang  of  the  loveliest  rose  in  the  world, 
and  each  one  named  his  own;  and  intelligence  was  sent  far 
round  the  land  to  every  heart  that  beat  with  love,  to  every 
class  and  condition,  and  to  every  age. 

"No  one  has  till  now  named  the  flower,"  said  the  wise 
man.  "No  one  has  yet  pointed  out  the  place  where  it 
bloomed  in  its  splendor.  They  are  not  the  roses  from  the 
coffin  of  Romeo  and  Juliet,  or  from  the  Walburg's  grave, 
though  these  roses  will  be  ever  fragrant  in  song.  They  are 
not  the  roses  that  sprouted  from  Winkelried's  blood-stained 
lances,  from  the  blood  that  flows  in  a  sacred  cause  from  the 
breast  of  the  hero  who  dies  for  his  country;  though  no  death 
is  sweeter  than  this,  and  no  rose  redder  than  the  blood  that 
flows  then.  Nor  is  it  that  wondrous  flower,  to  cherish  which 
m.an  devotes,  in  a  quiet  chamber,  many  a  sleepless  night, 
and  much  of  his  fresh  life — the  magic  flower  of  science." 

"I  know  where  it  blooms,"  said  a  happy  mother,  who 
came  with  her  pretty  child  to  the  bedside  of  the  Queen.  'T 
know  where  the  loveliest  rose  of  the  world  is  found!  The 
rose  that  is  the  expression  of  the  highest  and  purest  love 
springs  from  the  blooming  cheeks  of  my  sweet  child  when, 
strengthened  by  sleep,  it  opens  its  eyes  and  smiles  at  me 
with  all  its  afifection." 

"Lovely  is  this  rose;  but  there  is  still  a  lovelier,"  said  the 
wise  man. 

"Yes,  a  far  lovelier  one,"  said  one  of  the  women.  "I  have 
seen  it,  and  a  loftier,  purer  rose  does  not  bloom.  I  saw  it  on 
the  cheeks  of  the  Queen.  She  had  taken  of¥  her  golden 
crown,  and  in  the  long,  dreary  night  she  was  carrying  her 
sick  child  in  her  arms;  she  wept,  kissed  it,  and  prayed  for 
her  child  as  a  mother  prays  in  the  hour  of  her  anguish." 

"Holy  and  wonderful  in  its  might  is  the  white  rose  of 
Grief;  but  it  is  not  the  one  we  seek." 

"No,  the  loveliest  rose  of  the  world  I  saw  at  the  altar  of 
the  Lord,"  said  the  good  old  Bishop.  "I  saw  it  shine  as 
if  an  angel's  face  had  appeared.  The  young  maidens  went 
to  the  Lord's  Table,  and  renev/ed  the  promise  made  at  their 
baptism,  and  roses  were  blushing  and  pale  roses  shining 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  147 

on  their  fresh  cheeks.  A  young  girl  stood  there;  she 
looked  with  all  the  purity  and  love  of  her  young  spirit  up  to 
heaven:  that  was  the  expression  of  the  highest  and  the 
purest  love." 

"May  she  be  blessed!"  said  the  wise  man;  "but  not  one 
of  you  has  yet  named  to  me  tlie  loveliest  rose  of  the  world." 

Then  there  came  into  the  room  a  child,  the  Queen's  little 
son.  Tears  stood  in  his  eyes  and  glistened  on  his  cheeks; 
he  carried  a  great  open  book,  and  the  binding  of  it  was 
velvet,  with  great  silver  clasps. 

"Mother!"  cried  the  httle  boy,  "only  hear  what  I  have 
read." 

And  the  child  sat  by  the  bedside,  and  read  from  the  book 
of  Him  who  suffered  death  on  the  cross  to  save  men,  and 
even  those  who  were  not  yet  born. 

"Greater  love  there  is  not " 

And  a  roseate  hue  spread  over  the  cheeks  of  the  Queen, 
and  her  eyes  gleamed,  for  she  saw  that  from  the  leaves  of 
the  book  there  bloomed  the  loveliest  rose,  that  sprang  from 
the  blood  of  Christ  shed  on  the  Cross. 

"I  see  it!"  she  said:  "he  who  beholds  this,  the  loveliest 
rose  on  earth,  shall  never  die." 


HOLGER  DANSKE. 

"In  Denmark  there  Hes  a  castle  named  Kronenburgh. 
It  lies  close  by  the  Oer  Sound,  where  the  ships  pass  through 
by  hundreds  every  day  —  Enghsh,  Russian,  and  likewise 
Prussian  ships.  And  they  salute  the  old  castle  with  can- 
nons— 'Boom!'  And  the  castle  answers  with  a  'Boom!'  for 
that's  what  the  cannons  say  instead  of  'Good-day'  and 
'Thank  you!'  In  winter  no  ships  sail  there,  for  the  whole 
sea  is  covered  with  ice  quite  across  to  the  Swedish  coast; 
but  it  has  quite  the  look  of  a  high  road.  There  wave  the 
Danish  flag  and  the  Swedish  flag,  and  Danes  and  Swedes 
say  'Good-day'  and  'Thank  you!'  to  each  other,  not  with 
cannons,  but  with  a  friendly  grasp  of  the  hand;  and  one  gets 
white  bread  and  biscuits  from  the  other — for  strange  fare 
tastes  best.     But  the  most  beautiful  of  all  is  the  old  Kron- 


148  ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES. 

enburgh ;  and  here  it  is  that  Holger  Danske  sits  in  the  deep 
dark  cellar,  where  nobody  goes.  He  is  clad  in  iron  and 
steel,  and  leans  his  head  on  his  strong  arms;  his  long  beard 
hangs  down  over  the  marble  table,  and  has  grown  into  it. 
He  sleeps  and  dreams,  but  in  his  dreams  he  sees  every- 
thing that  happens  up  here  in  Denmark.  Every  Christmas 
Eve  comes  an  angel,  and  tells  him  that  what  he  has 
dreamed  is  right,  and  that  he  may  go  to  sleep  in  quiet,  for 
that  Denmark  is  not  yet  in  any  real  danger;  but  when 
once  such  a  danger  comes,  then  old  Holger  Danske  will 
rouse  himself,  so  that  the  table  shall  burst  when  he  draws 
out  his  beard!  Then  he  will  come  forth  and  strike,  so 
that  it  shall  be  heard  in  all  the  countries  in  the  world." 

An  old  grandfather  sat  and  told  his  little  grandson  all  this 
about  Holger  Danske;  and  the  little  boy  knew  that  what  his 
grandfather  told  him  was  true.  And  while  the  old  man  sat 
and  told  his  story,  he  carved  an  image  which  was  to  repre- 
sent Holger  Danske,  and  to  be  fastened  to  the  prow  of  a 
ship;  for  the  old  grandfather  was  a  carver  of  figure-heads, 
that  is,  one  who  cuts  out  the  figures  fastened  to  the  front 
of  ships,  and  from  which  every  ship  is  named.  And  here 
he  had  cut  out  Holger  Danske,  who  stood  there  proudly 
with  his  long  beard,  and  held  the  broad  battle-sword  in  one 
hand,  while  with  the  other  he  leaned  upon  the  Danish  arms. 

And  the  old  grandfather  told  him  so  much  about  distin- 
guished men  and  women,  that  it  appeared  at  last  to  the  lit- 
tle grandson  as  if  he  knew  as  much  as  Hoiger  Danske  him- 
self, who,  after  all,  could  only  dream:  and  when  the  little 
fellow  was  in  his  bed,  he  thought  so  much  of  it,  that  he 
actually  pressed  his  chin  against  the  coverlet,  and  fancied 
he  had  a  long  beard  that  had  grown  fast  to  it. 

But  the  old  grandfather  remained  sitting  at  his  work,  and 
carved  away  at  the  last  part  of  it;  and  this  was  the  Danish 
coat  of  arms.  When  he  had  finished,  he  looked  at  the 
M^hole,  and  thought  of  all  he  had  read  and  heard,  and  that 
he  had  told  this  evening  to  the  little  boy;  and  he  nodded, 
and  wiped  his  spectacles,  and  put  them  on  again,  and  said: 

"Yes,  in  my  time  Holger  Danske  will  probably  not  come; 
but  the  boy  in  the  bed  yonder  may  get  to  see  him,  and  be 
there  when  the  push  really  comes." 

And  the  good  old  grandfather  nodded  again;  and  the 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  149 

more  he  looked  at  Holger  Danske  the  more  plain  did  it  be- 
come to  him  that  it  was  a  good  image  he  had  carved.  It 
seemed  really  to  gain  color,  and  the  armor  appeared  to 
gleam  like  iron  and  steel;  the  hearts  in  the  Danish  arms 
became  redder  and  redder,  and  the  lions  with  the  golden 
crowns  on  their  heads  leaped  up.* 

"That's  the  most  beautiful  coat  of  arms  there  is  in  the 
world!"  said  the  old  man.  "The  lions  are  strength,  and 
the  heart  is  gentleness  and  love!" 

And  he  looked  at  the  uppermost  lion,  and  thought  of 
King  Canute,  who  bound  great  England  to  the  throne  of 
Denmark;  and  he  looked  at  the  second  lion,  and  thought 
of  Waldemar,  who  united  Denmark  and  conquered  the 
Wendish  lands;  and  he  glanced  at  the  third  lion,  and  re- 
membered Margaret,  who  united  Denmark,  Sweden,  and 
Norway.  But  while  he  looked  at  the  red  hearts,  they 
gleamed  more  brightly  than  before;  they  became  flames, 
and  his  heart  followed  each  of  them. 

The  first  heart  led  him  into  a  dark  narrow  prison:  there 
sat  a  prisoner,  a  beautiful  woman,  the  daughter  of  King 
Christian  IV.,  Eleanor  Ulfeld ;  f  and  the  flame,  which  was 
shaped  like  a  rose,  attached  itself  to  her  bosom  and  blos- 
somed, so  that  it  became  one  with  the  heart  of  her,  the  no- 
blest and  best  of  all  Danish  women. 

And  his  spirit  followed  the  second  flame,  which  led  him 
out  upon  the  sea,  where  the  cannons  thundered  and  the 
ships  lay  shrouded  in  smoke;  and  the  flame  fastened  itself 
in  the  shape  of  a  ribbon  of  honor  on  the  breast  of  Hvitfeld, 
as  he  blew  himself  and  his  ship  into  the  air,  that  he  might 
save  the  fleet.J 

And  the  third  flame  led  him  to  the  wretched  huts  of 


*  The  Danish  arms  consist  of  three  lions  between  nine  hearts. 

t  This  highly  gifted  Princess  was  the  wife  of  Corfitz  Ulfeld,  who 
was  accused  of  high  treason.  Her  only  crime  was  the  most  faith- 
ful love  to  her  unhappy  consort;  but  she  was  compelled  to  pass 
twenty-two  years  in  a  horrible  dungeon,  until  her  persecutor, 
Queen  Sophia  Amelia,  was  dead. 

t  In  the  naval  battle  in  Kjoge  Bay  between  the  Danes  and  the 
Swedes,  in  1710,  Hvitfeld's  ship,  the  Danebrog,  took  fire.  To  save 
the  town  of  Kjoge,  and  the  Danish  fleet,  which  was  being  driven 
by  the  wind  toward  his  vessel,  he  blew  himself  and  his  whole 
crew  into  the  air. 


150  ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES. 

Greenland,  where  the  preacher  Hans  Egede  f  wrought,  with 
love  in  every  word  and  deed:  the  flame  was  a  star  on  his 
breast,  another  heart  in  the  Danish  arms. 

And  the  spirit  of  the  old  grandfather  flew  on  before  the 
waving  flames,  for  his  spirit  knew  whither  the  flames  de- 
sired to  go.  In  the  humble  room  of  the  peasant  woman 
stood  Frederick  VI.,  writing  his  name  with  chalk  on  the 
beam4  The  flame  trembled  on  his  breast,  and  trembled  in 
his  heart;  in  the  peasant's  lowly  room  his  heart  too  became 
a  heart  in  the  Danish  arms.  And  the  old  grandfather 
dried  his  eyes,  for  he  had  known  King  Frederick  with  the 
silvery  locks  and  honest  blue  eyes,  and  had  lived  for  him: 
he  folded  his  hands,  and  looked  in  silence  straight  before 
him.  Then  came  the  daughter-in-law  of  the  old  grandfather, 
and  said  it  was  late,  he  ought  now  to  rest;  and  the  supper 
table  was  spread. 

"But  it  is  beautiful,  what  you  have  done,  grandfather!'' 
said  she.  "Holger  Danske,  and  all  our  old  coat  of  arms! 
It  seems  to  me  just  as  if  I  had  seen  that  face  before!" 

"No,  that  can  scarcely  be,"  replied  the  old  grandfather; 
"but  I  have  seen  it,  and  I  have  tried  to  carve  it  in  wood  as  I 
have  kept  it  in  my  memory.  It  was  when  the  English  lay 
in  front  of  the  wharf,  on  the  Danish  2d  of  April,§  when  we 
showed  that  we  were  old  Danes.  In  the  Denmark,  on 
board  which  I  was,  in  Steen  Bille's  squadron,  I  had  a  man  at 
my  side — it  seemed  as  if  the  bullets  were  afraid  of  him! 
Merrily  he  sang  old  songs,  and  shot  and  fought  as  if  he 
were  something  more  than  a  man.     I  remember  his  face 

t  Hans  Egede  went  to  Greenland  in  1721,  and  toiled  there  dur- 
ing fifteen  years  among  incredible  hardships  and  privations.  Not 
only  did  he  spread  Christianity,  but  exhibited  in  himself  a  re- 
markable example  of  a  Christian  man. 

I  On  a  journey  on  the  west  coast  of  Jutland,  the  King  visited 
an  old  woman.  When  he  had  already  quitted  her  house,  the  wom- 
an ran  after  him,  and  begged  him,  as  a  remembrance,  to  write  his 
name  upon  a  beam;  the  King  turned  back,  and  complied.  Dur- 
ing his  whole  lifetime  he  felt  and  worked  for  the  peasant  class; 
therefore  the  Danish  peasants  begged  to  be  allowed  to  carry  his 
coffin  to  the  royal  vault  at  Roeskilde,  four  Danish  miles  from  Co- 
penhagen. 

§  On  the  2d  of  April,  1801,  occurred  the  sanguinary  naval  battle 
between  the  Danes  and  the  English,  under  Sir  Hyde  Parker  and 
Nelson. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY   TALES.  151 

yet;  but  whence  he  came,  and  whither  he  went,  I  know  not 
■ — nobody  knows.  I  have  often  thought  he  might  have  been 
old  Holger  Danske  himself,  who  had  swum  down  from  the 
Kronenburgh,  and  aided  us  in  the  hour  of  danger;  that  was 
my  idea,  and  there  stands  his  picture." 

And  the  statue  threw  its  great  shadow  up  against  the 
wall,  and  even  over  part  of  the  ceiling;  it  looked  as  though 
the  real  Holger  Danske  were  standing  behind  it,  for  the 
shadow  moved,  but  this  might  have  been  because  the  flame 
of  the  candle  did  not  burn  steadily.  And  the  daughter-in- 
law  kissed  the  old  grandfather,  and  led  him  to  the  great 
armchair  by  the  table;  and  she  and  her  husband,  who  was 
the  son  of  the  old  man,  and  father  of  the  little  boy  in  bed, 
sat  and  ate  their  supper;  and  the  grandfather  spoke  of  the 
Danish  lions  and  of  the  Danish  hearts,  of  strength  and  of 
gentleness;  and  quite  clearly  did  he  explain  that  there  was 
another  strength  besides  the  power  that  lies  in  the  sword; 
and  he  pointed  to  the  shelf  on  which  were  the  old  books, 
where  stood  the  plays  of  Holberg,  which  had  been  read  so 
often,  for  they  were  very  amusing;  one  could  almost  fancy 
one  recognized  the  people  of  by-gone  days  in  them. 

"See,  he  knew  how  to  strike,  too,"  said  the  grandfather; 
"he  scourged  the  foolishness  and  prejudice  of  the  people 
so  long  as  he  could" — and  the  grandfather  nodded  at  the 
mirror,  above  which  stood  the  calendar,  with  the  "Round 
Tower"  *  on  it,  and  said  "Tycho  Brahe  was  also  one  who 
used  the  sword,  not  to  cut  into  flesh  and  bone,  but  to  build 
up  a  plainer  way  among  all  the  stars  of  heaven.  And  then  he 
whose  father  belonged  to  my  calling,  the  son  of  the  figure- 
head carver,  he  whom  we  have  ourselves  seen  with  his  silver 
hairs  and  his  broad  shoulders,  he  whose  name  is  spoken 
of  in  all  lands!  Yes,  he  was  a  sculptor;  I  am  only  a  carver. 
Yes,  Holger  Danske  may  come  in  many  forms,  so  that  one 
hears  in  every  country  in  the  world  of  Denmark's  strength. 
Shall  we  now  drink  the  health  of  Bertel!"t 

But  the  little  lad  in  the  bed  saw  plainly  the  old  Kronen- 
burgh with  the  Oer  Sound,  the  real  Holger  Danske,  who 
sat  deep  below,  with  his  beard  grown  through  the  marble 
table,    dreaming    of   all    that    happens    up    here.      Holger 

*  The  astronomical  observatory  at  Copenhagen. 
tBertel  Thorwaldsen. 


152  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

Danske  also  dreamed  of  the  little,  humble  room  where  the 
carver  sat;  he  heard  all  that  passed,  and  nodded  in  his 
sleep,  and  said: 

"Yes,  remember  me,  ye  Danish  folk;  remember  me.  I 
shall  come  in  the  hour  of  need." 

And  without,  by  the  Kronenburgh,  shone  the  bright  day, 
and  the  wind  carried  the  note  of  the  hunting  horn  over  from 
the  neighboring  land;  the  ship  sailed  past,  and  saluted, 
"Boom!  boom!"  and  from  the  Kronenburgh  came  the  reply, 
"Boom!  boom!"  But  Holger  Danske  did  not  awake,  how- 
ever loudly  they  shot,  for  it  was  only  "Good-day"  and 
"Thank  you!"  There  must  be  another  kind  of  shooting  be- 
fore he  awakes;  but  he  will  awake,  for  there  is  faith  in  Hol- 
ger Danske. 


THE  PUPPET  SHOWMAN. 

On  board  the  steamer  was  an  elderly  man  with  such  a 
merry  face  that,  if  it  did  not  behe  him,  he  must  have  been 
the  happiest  fellow  in  creation.  And,  indeed,  he  declared 
he  was  the  happiest  man;  I  heard  it  out  of  his  own  mouth. 
He  was  a  Dane,  a  traveling  theater  director.  He  had  all 
his  company  with  him  in  a  large  box,  for  he  was  proprietor 
of  a  puppet-show.  His  inborn  cheerfulness,  he  said,  had 
been  purified  by  a  Polytechnic  candidate,  and  the  experi- 
ment had  made  him  completely  happy.  I  did  not  at  first 
understand  all  this,  but  afterward  he  explained  the  whole 
story  to  me,  and  here  it  is.     He  told  me: 

"It  was  in  the  little  town  of  Slaglese  I  gave  a  representa- 
tion in  the  hall  of  the  posting  house^  and  had  a  brilliant 
audience,  entirely  a  juvenile  one,  with  the  exception  of  two 
respectable  matrons.  All  at  once  a  person  in  black,  of 
student-like  appearance,  came  into  the  room  and  sat  down; 
he  laughed  aloud  at  the  telling  parts,  and  applauded  quite 
appropriately.  That  was  quite  an  unusual  spectator  for  me! 
I  felt  anxious  to  know  who  he  was,  and  I  heard  he  was 
a  candidate  from  the  Polytechnic  Institution  in  Copen- 
hagen, who  had  been  sent  out  to  instruct  the  folks  in  the 
provinces.  Punctually  at  eight  o'clock  my  performance 
closed;  for  children  must  go  early  to  bed,  and  a  manager 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  153 

must  consult  the  convenience  of  his  public.  At  nine  o'clock 
the  candidate  commenced  his  lecture,  with  experiments,  and 
now  I  formed  part  of  his  audience.  It  was  wonderful  to 
hear  and  to  see.  The  greater  part  of  it  was  beyond  my 
scope;  but  still  it  made  me  think  that  if  we  men  can  find 
out  so  much,  we  must  be  surely  intended  to  last  longer 
than  the  little  span  until  we  are  hidden  away  in  the  earth. 
They  were  quite  miracles  in  a  small  way  that  he  showed, 
and  yet  everything  flowed  as  naturally  as  water!  At  the 
time  of  Moses  and  the  prophets  such  a  man  would  have  been 
received  among  the  sages  of  the  land;  in  the  middle  ages 
they  would  have  burned  him  at  the  stake.  All  night  long 
I  could  not  go  to  sleep.  And  the  next  evening,  when  I 
gave  another  performance,  and  the  candidate  was  again 
present,  I  felt  fairly  overflowing  with  humor.  I  once  heard 
from  a  player  that  when  he  acted  a  lover  he  always  thought 
of  one  particular  ladyam.ong  the  audience;  he  only  played  for 
her,  and  forgot  all  the  rest  of  the  house;  and  now  the  Poly- 
technic candidate  was  my  'she/  my  only  auditor,  for  whom 
alone  I  played.  And  when  the  performance  was  over,  all  the 
puppets  were  called  before  the  curtain,  and  the  Polytechnic 
candidate  invited  me  into  his  room  to  take  a  glass  of  wine; 
and  he  spoke  of  my  comedies,  and  I  of  his  science;  and 
I  believe  we  were  both  equally  pleased.  But  I  had  the  best 
of  it,  for  there  was  much  in  what  he  did  of  which  he  could 
not  always  give  me  an  explanation.  For  instance,  that  a  piece 
of  iron  that  falls  through  a  spiral  should  become  magnetic. 
Now,  how  does  that  happen?  The  spirit  comes  upon  it; 
but  whence  does  it  come?  It  is  as  with  people  in  this 
world;  they  are  made  to  tumble  through  the  spiral  of  this 
world,  and  the  spirit  comes  upon  them,  and  there  stands  a 
Napoleon,  or  a  Luther,  or  a  person  of  that  kind.  'The 
whole  world  is  a  series  of  miracles,'  said  the  candidate; 
'but  we  are  so  accustomed  to  them  that  we  call  them  every- 
day matters.'  And  he  went  on  explaining  things  to  me 
until  my  skull  seemed  lifted  up  over  my  brain,  and  I  de- 
clared that  if  I  were  not  an  old  fellow  I  would  at  once 
visit  the  Polytechnic  Institution,  that  I  might  learn  to  look 
at  the  sunny  side  of  the  world,  though  I  am  one  of  the  hap- 
piest of  men.  'One  of  the  happiest!'  said  the  candidate, 
and  he  seemed  to  take  real  pleasure  in  it.     'Are  you  happy?' 


154  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

'Yes,'  I  replied,  'and  they  welcome  me  in  all  the  towns 
where  I  come  with  my  company;  but  I  certainly  have  one 
wish,  which  sometimes  lies  like  lead,  like  an  Alp,  upon  my 
good  humor;  I  should  like  to  become  a  real  theatrical 
manager,  the  director  of  a  real  troupe  of  men  and  women!' 
'I  see,"  he  said;  'you  would  like  to  have  life  breathed  into 
your  puppets,  so  that  they  might  be  real  actors,  and  you 
their  director;  and  would  you  then  be  quite  happy?'  He 
did  not  believe  it;  but  I  believed  it,  and  we  talked  it  over 
all  manner  of  ways  without  coming  any  nearer  to  an  agree- 
ment; but  we  clanked  our  glasses  together,  and  the  wine 
was  excellent.  There  was  some  magic  in  it,  or  I  certainly 
should  have  become  tipsy.  But  that  did  not  happen;  I  re- 
tained my  clear  view  of  things,  and  somehow  there  was  sun- 
shine in  the  room,  and  sunshine  beamed  out  of  the  eyes  of 
the  Polytechnic  candidate.  It  made  me  think  of  the  old 
stories  of  the  gods,  in  their  eternal  youth,  when  they  still 
wandered  upon  earth  and  paid  visits  to  tl^e  mortals;  and  I 
said  so  to  him,  and  he  smiled,  and  I  could  have  sworn  he 
w^as  one  of  the  ancient  gods  in  disguise,  or  that,  at  any 
rate,  he  belonged  to  the  fam'ly!  and  certainly  he  mu-t  have 
been  something  of  the  k"nd,  for  my  highest  w  sh  was  to  have 
been  fulfilled,  the  puppets  were  to  be  gifted  with  life,  and  1 
was  to  be  director  of  a  real  company.  We  drank  to  my 
success  and  clinked  our  glasses.  He  packed  all  my  dolls 
into  a  box,  bound  the  box  on  mv  b^ck,  and  then  let  me  fall 
through  a  spiral.  I  h-^ard  mye'f  trmb'in?,  and  t^^en  I  was 
lying  on  the  floor — I  know  that  qui^e  we'l — and  the  whole 
company  sprang  out  of  the  box.  The  sp'rit  had  come  upon 
all  of  us:  all  the  puppets  had  become  distinguished  art  sts, 
so  they  said  themselves,  and  I  was  the  director.  All  was 
ready  for  the  first  representation;  the  whole  company  wanted 
to  speak  to  me,  and  the  public  also.  The  dancing  lady 
said  the  house  would  fall  down  if  she  did  not  keep  it  up  by 
standing  on  one  leg;  for  she  was  the  great  genius,  and 
begged  to  be  treated  as  such.  The  lady  who  acted  the 
Queen  wished  to  be  treated  off  the  stage  as  a  Queen,  or  else 
she  should  sr^t  out  of  oractice.  The  man  who  was  only  em- 
ployed to  deliver  a  letter  gave  himself  just  as  manv  airs 
as  the  first  lover,  for  he  declared  the  little  ones  were  just  as 
important  as  the  great  ones,  and  all  were  of  equal  conse- 
quence, considered  as  an  artistic  whole.    The  hero  would 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES.  155 

only  play  parts  composed  of  nothing  but  points;  for  those 
brought  him  down  the  applause.  The  prima  donna  would 
only  play  in  a  red  light;  for  she  declared  that  a  blue  one 
did  not  suit  her  complexion.  It  was  like  a  company  of 
flies  in  a  bottle;  and  I  was  in  the  bottle  with  them,  for  I 
was  the  director.  My  breath  stopped  and  my  head  whixled 
round;  I  was  as  miserable  as  a  man  can  be.  It  was  quite 
a  novel  kind  of  men  among  whom  I  now  found  myself.  I 
only  wished  I  had  them  all  in  the  box  again,  and  that  I  had 
never  been  a  director  at  all;  so  I  told  them  roundly  that 
after  all  they  were  nothing  but  puppets;  and  then  they 
killed  me.  I  found  myself  lying  on  my  bed  in  the  room; 
and  how  I  got  there,  and  how  I  got  away  at  all  from  the 
Polytechnic  candidate,  he  may  perhaps  know,  for  I  don't. 
The  moon  shone  upon  the  floor  where  the  box  lay  open, 
and  the  dolls  all  in  a  confusion  together — great  and  small, 
all  scattered  about;  but  I  was  not  idle.  Out  of  bed  I 
jumped,  and  into  the  box  they  had  all  to  go,  some  on  their 
heads,  some  on  their  feet,  and  I  shut  down  the  lid  and 
seated  myself  upon  the  box.  'Now  you'll  just  have  to  stay 
there,'  said  I,  'and  I  shall  beware  how  I  wish  you  flesh  and 
blood  again.'  I  felt  quite  light;  my  good  humor  had  come 
back,  and  I  was  the  happiest  of  mortals.  The  Polytechnic 
student  had  fully  purified  me.  I  sat  as  happy  as  a  King, 
and  went  to  sleep  on  the  box.  The  next  morning — strictly 
speaking  it  was  noon,  for  I  slept  wonderfully  late  that  day 
— I  was  still  sitting  there,  happy,  and  conscious  that  my 
former  wish  had  been  a  foolish  one.  I  inquired  for  the 
Polytechnic  candidate,  but  he  was  gone,  like  the  Greek 
and  Roman  gods;  and  from  that  time  I've  been  the  happiest 
of  men.  I  am  a  happy  director:  none  of  my  company  ever 
grumble,  nor  my  public  either,  for  they  are  always  merry. 
I  can  put  my  pieces  together  just  as  I  please.  I  take  out 
of  every  comedy  what  pleases  me  best,  and  no  one  is  angry 
at  it.  Pieces  that  are  neglected  nowadays  by  the  great  pub- 
lic, but  which  it  used  to  run  after  thirty  years  ago,  and  at 
which  it  used  to  cry  till  the  tears  ran  down  its  cheeks, 
these  pieces  I  now  take  up.  I  put  them  before  the  little 
ones,  and  the  little  ones  cry  just  as  papa  and  mamma  used 
to  cry  thirty  years  ago;  but  I  shorten  them,  for  the  young- 
sters don't  like  a  long  palaver;  what  they  want  is  some- 
thing mournful,  but  quick." 


156  ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES. 


A  PICTURE  FROM  THE  FORTRESS  WALL. 

It  is  autumn:  we  stand  on  the  fortress  wall,  and  look  out 
over  the  sea;  we  look  at  the  numerous  ships,  and  at  the 
Swedish  coast  on  the  other  side  of  the  Sound,  which  rises 
far  above  the  mirror  of  waters  in  the  evening  glow;  behind 
us  the  woods  stand  sharply  out;  mighty  trees  surround  us; 
the  yellow  leaves  flutter  down  from  the  branches.  Below, 
at  the  foot  of  the  wall,  stand  gloomy  houses  fenced  in  with 
palisades;  in  these  it  is  very  narrow  and  dismal,  but  still 
more  dismal  is  it  behind  the  grated  loopholes  in  the  wall, 
for  there  sit  the  prisoners,  the  worst  criminals. 

A  ray  of  the  sinking  sun  shines  into  the  bare  cell  of  one 
of  the  captives.  The  sun  shines  upon  the  good  and  the 
evil.  The  dark,  stubborn  criminal  throws  an  impatient  look 
at  the  cold  ray.  A  little  bird  flies  toward  the  grating.  The 
bird  twitters  to  the  wicked  as  to  the  just.  He  only  utters 
his  short  "tweet!  tweet!"  but  he  perches  upon  the  grating, 
claps  his  wings,  pecks  a  feather  from  one  of  them,  puffs  him- 
self out,  and  sets  his  feathers  on  end  on  his  neck  and  breast; 
and  the  bad  chained  man  looks  at  him;  a  milder  expression 
comes  into  the  criminal's  hard  face;  in  his  breast  there 
swells  up  a  thought —  a  thought  he  himself  cannot  rightly 
analyze;  but  the  thought  has  to  do  with  the  sunbeam, 
with  the  scent  of  violets  which  grow  luxuriantly  in  spring 
at  the  foot  of  the  wall.  Noav  the  horns  of  the  chasseur 
soldiers  sound  merry  and  full.  The  little  bird  starts  and  flies 
away;  the  sunbeam  gradually  vanishes,  and  again  it  is  dark 
in  the  room,  and  dark  in  the  heart  of  the  bad  man;  but 
still  the  sun  shone  into  that  heart,  and  the  twittering  of  the 
bird  has  touched  it! 

Sound  on,  ye  glorious  strains  of  the  hunting  horns!  Con- 
tinue to  sound,  for  the  evening  is  mild,  and  the  surface  of  the 
sea,  smooth  as  a  mirror,  heaves  slowly  and  gently. 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  157 


IN  THE  DUCK  YARD. 

A  Duck  arrived  from  Portugal.  Some  said  she  came  from 
Spain,  but  that's  all  the  same.  At  any  rate  she  was  called 
the  Portuguese,  and  laid  eggs,  and  was  killed  and  cooked, 
and  that  was  her  career.  But  the  Ducklings  which  crept 
forth  from  her  eggs  were  afterward  also  called  Portuguese, 
and  there  is  something  in  that.  Now,  of  the  whole  family 
there  was  only  one  left  in  the  duck  yard,  a  yard  to  which  the 
Chickens  had  access  likewise,  and  where  the  Cock  strutted 
about  in  a  very  aggressive  manner. 

"He  annoys  me  with  his  loud  crowing!"  observed  the 
Portuguese  Duck.  "But  he's  a  handsome  bird,  there's  no 
denying  that,  though  he  is  not  a  drake.  He  ought  to 
moderate  his  voice,  but  that's  an  art  inseparable  from  polite 
education,  like  that  possessed  by  the  little  singing  birds 
over  in  the  lime  trees  in  the  neighbor's  garden.  How 
charmingly  they  sing!  There's  something  quite  pretty  in 
their  warbling.  I  call  it  Portugal.  If  I  had  only  such  a  lit- 
tle singing  bird,  I'd  be  a  mother  to  him,  kind  and  good,  for 
that's  in  my  blood,  my  Portuguese  blood!" 

And  while  she  was  still  speaking,  a  little  Singing  Bird 
came  head  over  heels  from  the  roof  into  the  yard.  The  cat 
was  behind  him,  but  the  Bird  escaped  with  a  broken  wing, 
and  that's  how  he  came  tumbling  into  the  yard. 

"That's  just  like  the  cat;  she's  a  villain!"  said  the  Por- 
tuguese Duck.  "I  remember  her  ways  when  I  had  children 
of  my  own.  That  such  a  creature  should  be  allowed  to  live, 
and  to  wander  about  upon  the  roofs!  I  don't  think  they  do 
such  things  in  Portugal." 

And  she  pitied  the  little  Singing  Bird,  and  the  other 
Ducks,  who  were  not  of  Portuguese  descent,  pitied  him  too. 

"Poor  little  creature!"  they  said,  as  one  after  another 
came  up.  "We  certainly  can't  sing,"  they  said,  "but  we  have 
a  sounding  board,  or  something  of  the  kind,  within  us;  we 
can  feel  that,  though  we  don't  talk  of  it." 

"But  I  can  talk  of  it,"  said  the  Portuguese  Duck;  "and  I'll 
do  something  for  the  little  fellow,  for  that's  my  duty."  And 
she  stepped  into  the  water-trough,  and  beat  her  wings  upon 


r 

LIBRARY 

OF 

WASHINGTON 

U  N  t  V  E  R  -  P  Y 
ST.  LOUIS     -  O. 


158  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES, 

the  water  so  heartily,  that  the  Httle  Singing  Bird  was  almost 
drowned  by  the  bath  he  got,  but  the  Duck  meant  it  kindly. 
"That's  a  good  deed,"  she  said:  "the  others  may  take  ex- 
ample by  it." 

"Piep!"  said  the  little  Bird:  one  of  his  wings  was  broken, 
and  he  found  it  difficult  to  shake  himself;  but  he  quite  un- 
derstood that  the  bath  was  kindly  meant.  "You  are  very 
kind  hearted,  madam,"  he  said;  but  he  did  not  wish  for  a 
second  bath. 

"I  have  never  thought  about  my  heart,"  continued  the 
Portuguese  Duck,  "but  I  know  this  much,  that  I  love  all  my 
fellow-creatures  except  the  cat;  but  nobody  can  expect  me 
to  love  her,  for  she  ate  up  two  of  my  ducklings.  But  pray 
make  yourself  at  home,  for  one  can  make  one's  self  comfort- 
able. I  myself  am  from  a  strange  country,  as  you  may  see 
from  my  bearing  and  from  my  feathery  dress.  My  drake  is 
a  native  of  these  parts,  he's  not  of  my  race;  but  for  all  that 
I'm  not  proud.  If  anyone  here  in  the  yard  can  understand 
you,  I  may  assert  that  I  am  that  person." 

"She's  quite  full  of  Portulak,"  said  a  little  common  Duck, 
who  was  witty;  and  all  the  other  common  Ducks  con- 
sidered the  word  Portulak  quite  a  good  joke,  for  it  sounded 
like  Portugal;  and  they  nudged  each  other  and  said  "Rap!" 
It  was  too  witty!  And  all  the  other  Ducks  now  began  to 
notice  the  little  Singing  Bird. 

"The  Portuguese  has  certainly  a  greater  command  of  lan- 
guage," they  said.  "For  our  part,  we  don't  care  to  fill  our 
beaks  with  such  long  words,  but  our  sympathy  is  just  as 
great.  If  we  don't  do  anything  for  you,  we  march  about 
with  you  everywhere;  and  we  think  that  the  best  thing  we 
can  do." 

"You  have  a  lovely  voice,"  said  one  of  the  oldest.  "It 
must  be  a  great  satisfaction  to  be  able  to  give  so  much 
pleasure  as  you  are  able  to  impart.  I  certainly  am  no  great 
judge  of  your  song,  and  consequently  I  keep  my  beak  shut; 
and  even  that  is  better  than  talking  nonsense  to  you,  as 
others  do." 

"Don't  plague  him  so,"  interposed  the  Portuguese  Duck; 
"he  requires  rest  and  nursing.  My  little  Singing  Bird,  do 
you  wish  me  to  prepare  another  bath  for  you?" 

"Oh,  no!  pray  let  me  be  dry!"  was  the  little  Bird's  peti- 
tion. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  159 

"The  water  cure  is  the  only  remedy  for  me  when  I  am 
unwell,"  quoth  the  Portuguese.  "Amusement  is  beneficial 
too.  The  neighboring  fowls  will  soon  come  to  pay  their 
visit.  There  are  two  Cochin  Chinese  among  them.  They 
wear  feathers  on  their  legs,  are  well  educated,  and  have  been 
brought  from  afar;  consequently  they  stand  higher  than  the 
others  in  my  regard." 

And  the  Fowls  came,  and  the  Cock  came;  to-day  he  was 
polite  enough  to  abstain  from  being  rude. 

"You  are  a  true  Singing  Bird,"  he  said,  "and  you  do  as 
much  with  your  little  voice  as  can  possibly  be  done  with  it. 
But  one  requires  a  little  more  shrillness,  that  every 
hearer  may  hear  that  one  is  a  male." 

The  two  Chinese  stood  quite  enchanted  with  the  appear- 
ance of  the  Singing  Bird.  He  looked  very  much  rumpled 
after  his  bath,  so  that  he  seemed  to  them  to  have  quite  the 
appearance  of  a  little  Cochin  China  fowl. 

"He's  charming,"  they  cried,  and  began  a  conversation 
with  him,  speaking  in  whispers,  and  using  the  most  aristo- 
cratic Chinese  dialect. 

"We  are  of  your  race,"  they  continued.  "The  Ducks, 
even  the  Portuguese,  are  swimming  birds,  as  you  cannot  fail 
to  have  noticed.  You  do  not  know  us  yet;  very  few  know 
us,  or  give  themselves  the  trouble  to  make  our  acquaint- 
ance— not  even  any  of  the  fowls,  though  we  are  born  to 
occupy  a  higher  grade  on  the  ladder  than  most  of  the  rest. 
But  that  does  not  disturb  us:  we  quietly  pursue  our  path 
amid  the  others,  whose  principles  are  certainly  not  ours; 
for  we  look  at  things  on  the  favorable  side,  and  only  speak 
of  what  is  good,  though  it  is  difificult  sometimes  to  find 
something  when  nothing  exists.  Except  us  two  and  the 
Cock,  there's  no  one  in  the  whole  poultry  yard  who  is  at 
once  talented  and  polite.  It  cannot  even  be  said  of  the  in- 
habitants of  the  duck  yard.  We  warn  you,  little  Singing 
Bird:  don't  trust  that  one  yonder  with  the  short  tail-feathers, 
for  she's  cunning.  The  pied  one  there,  with  the  crooked 
stripes  on  her  wings,  is  a  strife-seeker,  and  lets  nobody  have 
the  last  word,  though  she's  always  in  the  wrong.  The  fat 
duck  yonder  speaks  evil  of  everyone,  and  that's  against  our 
principles:  if  we  have  nothing  good  to  tell,  we  should  hold 
our  beaks.    The  Portuguese  is  the  only  one  who  has  any 


160  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

education,  and  with  whom  one  can  associate,  but  she  is 
passionate,  and  talks  too  much  about  Portugal." 

"I  wonder  what  those  two  Chinese  are  always  whispering 
to  one  another  about?"  whispered  one  Duck  to  her  friend. 
"They  annoy  me — we  have  never  spoken  to  them." 

Now  the  Drake  came  up.  He  thought  the  little  Singing 
Bird  was  a  sparrow. 

"Well,  I  don't  understand  the  difference,"  he  said;  "and, 
indeed,  it's  all  the  same  thing.  He's  only  a  plaything,  and  if 
one  has  them,  why,  one  has  them." 

"Don't  you  attach  any  value  to  what  he  says,"  the  Portu- 
guese whispered.  "He's  very  respectable  in  business  mat- 
ters ;  and  with  him  business  takes  precedence  of  everything. 
But  now  I  shall  lie  down  for  a  rest.  One  owes  that  to 
one's  self,  that  one  may  be  nice  and  fat  when  one  is  to  be 
embalmed  with  apples  and  plums." 

And  accordingly  she  lay  dov\^n  in  the  sun,  and  winked 
with  one  eye;  and  she  lay  comfortably,  and  she  felt  very 
comfortable,  and  she  slept  very  comfortably. 

The  little  Singing  Bird  busied  himself  with  his  broken 
wing.  At  last  he  lay  down,  too,  and  pressed  close  to  his  pro- 
tectress ;  the  sun  shone  warm  and  bright,  and  he  had  found 
a  very  good  place. 

But  the  neighbor's  fowls  were  awake,  and  went  about 
scratching  up  the  earth ;  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  they  had  paid 
the  visit  simph^  and  solely  to  find  food  for  themselves.  The 
Chinese  were  the  first  to  leave  the  diick  yard,  and  the  other 
fowls  soon  followed  them.  The  witty  little  Duck  said  of  the 
Portuguese  that  the  old  lady  was  becoming  a  ducky  dotard. 
At  this  the  other  ducks  laughed  and  cackled  aloud.  "Ducky 
dotard,"  they  whispered;  "that's  too  witty!"  and  then 
they  repeated  the  former  joke  about  Portulak,  and  de- 
clared that  it  was  vastly  amusing.    And  then  they  lay  down. 

They  had  been  lying  asleep  for  some  time,  when  suddenly 
something  was  thrown  into  the  yard  for  them  to  eat.  It 
came  down  with  such  a  thwack!  that  the  whole  company 
started  up  from  sleep  and  clapped  their  wings.  The  Portu- 
guese awoke  too,  and  threw  herself  over  on  the  other  side, 
pressing  the  little  Singing  Bird  very  hard  as  she  did  so. 

"Piep!"  he  cried;  "you  trod  very  hard  upon  me,  madam." 

"Well,  why  do  you  lie  in  my  way?"  the  Duck  retorted. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY   TALES.  161 

"You  must  not  be  so  touchy.  I  have  nerves  of  my  own, 
but  yet,  I  never  called  out  'PiepF  " 

"Don't  be  angry,"  said  the  little  Bird;  "the  'piep'  came 
out  of  my  beak  unawares." 

The  Portuguese  did  not  listen  to  him,  but  began  eating  as 
fast  as  she  could,  and  made  a  good  meal.  When  this  was 
ended,  and  she  lay  down  again,  the  little  Bird  came  up,  and 
wanted  to  be  amiable,  and  sang: 

"Tillee-lilly  lee. 
Of  the  good  spring-time 
I'll  sing  so  fine 
As  far  away  I  flee." 

"Nov/ 1  want  to  rest  after  my  dinner,"  said  the  Portuguese. 
"You  must  conform  to  the  rules  of  the  house  while  you're 
here.    I  want  to  sleep  now." 

The  httle  Singing  Bird  was  quite  taken  aback,  for  he  had 
meant  it  kindly.  When  Madam  afterward  awoke,  he  stood 
before  her  again  with  a  little  corn  that  he  had  found,  and 
laid  it  at  her  feet;  but  as  she  had  not  slept  well,  she  was 
naturally  in  a  very  bad  humor. 

"Give  that  to  a  chicken!"  she  said,  "and  don't  be  always 
standing  in  my  way." 

"Why  are  you  angry  with  me?"  replied  the  little  Singing 
Bird.    "What  have  I  done?" 

"Done!"  repeated  the  Portuguese  Duck;  "your  mode  of 
expression  is  not  exactly  genteel;  a  fact  to  which  I  must 
call  your  attention." 

"Yesterday  it  was  sunshine  here,"  said  the  little  Bird, 
"but  to-day  it's  cloudy  and  the  air  is  close." 

"You  don't  know  much  about  the  weather,  I  fancy,"  re- 
torted the  Portuguese.  "The  day  is  not  done  yet.  Don't 
stand  looking  so  stupid." 

"But  you  are  looking  at  me  just  as  the  wicked  eyes 
looked  when  I  fell  into  the  yard  yesterday." 

"Impertinent  creature!"  exclaimed  the  Portuguese  Duck, 
"would  you  compare  me  with  the  cat,  that  beast  of  prey? 
There's  not  a  drop  of  malicious  blood  in  me.  I've  taken  your 
part,  and  will  teach  you  good  manners." 

And  so  saying  she  bit  off  the  Singing  Bird's  head,  and  he 
lay  dead  on  the  ground. 

"Now,  what's  the  meaning  of  this?"  she  said,  "could  he 
u 


162  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

not  bear  even  that?  Then  certainly  he  was  not  made  for  this 
world.  I've  been  like  a  mother  to  him,  I  know  that,  for 
I've  a  good  heart." 

Then  the  neighbor's  Cock  stuck  his  head  into  the  yard, 
and  crowed  with  steam-engine  power. 

"You'll  kill  me  with  your  crowing!"  she  cried.  "It's  all 
your  fault.  He's  lost  his  head,  and  I  am  very  near  losing 
mine." 

"There's  not  much  lying  where  he  fell!"  observed  the 
Cock. 

"Speak  of  him  with  respect,"  retorted  the  Portuguese 
Duck,  "for  he  had  song,  manners,  and  education.  He  was 
afifectionate  and  soft,  and  that's  as  good  in  animals  as  in 
your  so-called  human  beings." 

And  all  the  Ducks  came  crowding  round  the  little  dead 
Singing  Bird.  Ducks  have  strong  passions,  whether  they 
feel  envy  or  pity;  and  as  there  was  nothing  here  to  envy, 
pity  manifested  itself,  even  in  the  two  Chinese, 

"We  shall  never  get  such  a  singing  bird  again;  he  was  al- 
most a  Chinese,"  they  whispered;  and  they  wept  with  a 
mighty  clucking  sound,  and  all  the  fowls  clucked  too,  but 
the  Ducks  went  about  with  the  redder  eyes. 

"We've  hearts  of  our  own,"  they  said;  "nobody  can  deny 
that." 

"Hearts!"  repeated  the  Portuguese,  "yes,  that  Ave  ha-^^, 
almost  as  much  as  in  Portugal." 

"Let  us  think  of  getting  something  to  satisfy  our  hunger," 
said  the  Drake,  "for  that's  the  most  important  point.  If 
one  of  our  toys  is  broken,  why,  we  have  plenty  more !" 


THE  RED  SHOES. 

There  once  was  a  little  girl;  a  very  nice  pretty  little  girl. 
But  in  summer  she  had  tO'  go  barefoot,  because  she  was 
poor,  and  in  winter  she  wore  thick  wooden  shoes,  so  that 
her  little  instep  became  quite  red,  altogether  red. 

In  the  middle  of  the  village  lived  an  old  shoem.aker's  wife; 
she  sat  and  sewed,  as  well  as  she  could,  a  pair  of  little  shoes, 
of  old  strips  of  red  cloth ;  they  were  clumsy  enough,  but  well 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  163 

meant,  and  the  little  girl  was  to  have  them.  The  little  girl's 
name  was  Karen. 

On  the  day  when  her  mother  was  buried  she  received  the 
red  shoes  and  wore  them  for  the  first  time.  They  were  cer- 
tainly not  suited  for  mourning;  but  she  had  no  others,  and 
therefore  thrust  her  little  bare  feet  into  them  and  walked 
behind  the  plain  deal  coffin. 

Suddenly  a  great  carriage  came  by,  and  in  the  carriage 
sat  an  old  lady;  she  looked  at  the  little  girl  and  felt  pity  for 
her  and  said  to  the  clergyman: 

"Give  me  the  little  girl  and  I  will  provide  for  her." 

Karen  thought  this  was  for  the  sake  of  the  shoes;  but  the 
old  lady  declared  they  were  hideous ;  and  they  were  burned. 
But  Karen  herself  was  clothed  neatly  and  properly:  she  was 
taught  to  read  and  to  sew,  and  the  people  said  she  was 
agreeable.  But  her  mirror  said,  "You  are  much  more  than 
agreeable;   you  are  beautiful." 

Once  the  Queen  traveled  through  the  country,  and  had 
her  little  daughter  with  her;  and  the  daughter  was  a 
Princess.  And  the  people  flocked  toward  the  castle,  and 
Karen  too  was  among  them ;  and  the  little  Princess  stood  in 
a  fine  white  dress  at  a  window,  and  let  herself  be  gazed  at. 
She  had  neither  train  nor  golden  crown,  but  she  wore 
splendid  red  morocco  shoes;  they  were  certainly  far  hand- 
somer than  those  the  shoemaker's  wife  had  made  for  little 
Karen.    Nothing  in  the  world  can  compare  with  red  shoes! 

Now  Karen  was  old  enough  to  be  confirmed :  new  clothes 
were  made  for  her,  and  she  was  to  have  new  shoes.  The 
rich  shoemaker  in  the  town  took  the  measure  of  her  little 
feet;  this  was  done  in  his  own  house,  in  his  little  room,  and 
there  stood  great  glass  cases  with  neat  shoes  and  shining 
boots.  It  had  quite  a  charming  appearance,  but  the  old  lady 
could  not  see  well,  and  therefore  took  no  pleasure  in  it. 
Among  the  shoes  stood  a  red  pair,  just  like  those  which  the 
princess  had  worn.  How  beautiful  they  were!  The  shoe- 
maker also  said  they  had  been  made  for  a  Count's  child, 
but  they  had  not  fitted. 

"That  must  be  patent  leather,"  observed  the  old  lady, 
"the  shoes  shine  so!" 

"Yes,  they  shine!"  replied  Karen;  and  they  fitted  her, 
and  were  bought.    But  the  old  lady  did  not  know  that  they 


164  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

were  red;  for  she  would  never  have  allowed  Karen  to  go  to 
her  confirmation  in  red  shoes;  and  that  is  what  Karen  d'd. 

Everyone  was  looking  at  her  shoes.  And  when  she  went 
across  the  church  porch,  toward  the  door  of  the  choir,  it 
seemed  to  her  as  if  the  old  pictures  on  the  tombstones,  the 
portraits  of  clergymen  and  clergymen's  wives,  in  their  stifif 
collars  and  long  black  garments,  fixed  their  eyes  upon  her 
red  shoes.  And  she  thought  of  her  shoes  only,  when  the 
priest  laid  his  hand  upon  her  head  and  spoke  holy  words. 
And  the  organ  pealed  solemnly,  the  children  sang  with  their 
fresh  sweet  voices,  and  the  old  preceptor  sang  too;  but 
Karen  thought  only  of  her  red  shoes. 

In  the  afternoon  the  old  lady  was  informed  by  everyone 
that  the  shoes  were  red;  and  she  said  it  was  naughty  and  un- 
suitable, and  that  when  Karen  went  to  church  in  future, 
she  should  always  go  in  black  shoes,  even  if  they  were  old. 

Next  Sunday  was  Sacrament  Sunday.  And  Karen  looked 
at  the  black  shoes,  and  looked  at  the  red  ones — looked  at 
them  again — and  put  on  the  red  ones. 

The  sun  shone  gloriously;  Karen  and  the  old  lady  went 
along  the  footpath  through  the  fields,  and  it  was  rather 
dusty. 

By  the  church  door  stood  an  old  invalid  soldier  with  a 
crutch  and  a  long  beard;  the  beard  was  rather  red  than 
white,  for  it  was  red  altogether;  and  he  bowed  down  almost 
to  the  ground,  and  asked  the  old  lady  if  he  might  dust  her 
shoes.    And  Karen  also  stretched  out  her  little  foot. 

"Look,  what  pretty  dancing  shoes!"  said  the  old  soldier. 
"Fit  so  tightly  when  you  dance!" 

And  he  tapped  the  soles  with  his  hand.  And  the  old  lady 
gave  the  soldier  an  alms,  and  went  into  the  church  with 
Karen. 

And  everyone  in  the  church  looked  at  Karen's  red  shoes, 
and  all  the  pictures  looked  at  them.  And  while  Karen  knelt 
in  the  church  she  only  thought  of  her  red  shoes;  and  she 
forgot  to  sing  her  psalm,  and  forgot  to  say  her  prayer. 

Now  all  the  people  went  out  of  church,  and  the  old  lady 
stepped  into  her  carriage.  Karen  lifted  up  her  foot  to  step 
in  too;  then  the  old  soldier  said: 

"Look,  what  beautiful  dancing  shoes!" 

And  Karen  could  not  resist:  she  was  obliged  to  dance  a 
few  steps;  and  when  she  once  began,  her  legs  u-ent  on  danc- 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES.  ItS 

ing.  It  was  just  as  though  the  shoes  had  obtained  power 
over  her.  She  danced  round  the  corner  of  the  church — 
she  could  not  help  it;  the  coachman  was  obliged  to  run  be- 
hind her  and  seize  her;  he  lifted  her  into  the  carriage,  but 
her  feet  went  on  dancing  so  that  she  kicked  the  good  old 
lady  violently.  At  last  they  took  off  her  shoes,  and  her  legs 
became  quiet. 

At  home  the  shoes  were  put  away  in  a  cupboard;  but 
Karen  could  not  resist  looking  at  them. 

Now  the  old  lady  became  very  ill,  and  it  was  said  she 
would  not  recover.  She  had  to  be  nursed  and  waited  on: 
and  this  was  no  one's  duty  so  much  as  Karen's.  But  there 
was  to  be  a  great  ball  in  the  town,  and  Karen  was  invited. 
She  looked  at  the  old  lady  who  could  not  recover;  she 
looked  at  the  red  shoes,  and  thought  there  would  be  no 
harm  in  it.  She  put  on  the  shoes,  and  that  she  might  very 
well  do;  but  they  went  to  the  ball  and  began  to  dance. 

But  when  she  wished  to  go  to  the  right  hand,  the  shoes 
danced  to  the  left,  and  when  she  wanted  to  go  upstairs  the 
shoes  danced  downward,  down  into  the  street  and  out  at  the 
town  gate.  She  danced,  and  was  obliged  to  dance,  till  she 
danced  straight  out  into  the  dark  wood. 

There  was  something  glistening  up  among  the  trees,  and 
she  thought  it  was  the  moon,  for  she  saw  a  face.  But  it  was 
the  old  soldier  with  the  red  beard:  he  sat  and  nodded,  and 
said: 

"Look,  what  beautiful  dancing  shoes!" 

Then  she  was  frightened,  and  wanted  to  throw  away  the 
red  shoes;  but  they  clung  fast  to  her.  And  she  tore  off  her 
stockings;  but  the  shoes  had  grown  fast  to  her  feet.  And 
she  danced  and  was  compelled  to  go  dancing  over  field  and 
meadow,  in  rain  and  sunshine,  by  night  and  by  day;  but  it 
was  most  dreadful  at  night. 

She  danced  out  into  the  open  churchyard;  but  the  dead 
there  do  not  dance;  they  have  far  better  things  to  do.  She 
wished  to  sit  down  on  the  poor  man's  grave,  where  the  bit- 
ter fern  grows;  but  there  was  no  peace  nor  rest  for  her. 
And  when  she  danced  toward  the  open  church  door,  she 
saw  there  an  angel  in  long  white  garments,  with  wings  that 
reached  from  his  shoulders  to  his  feet;  his  countenance  was 
serious  and  stern,  and  in  his  hand  he  held  a  sword  that  was 
broad  and  gleaming. 


166  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"Thou  shalt  dance!"  he  said — "dance  on  thy  red  shoes, 
till  thou  art  pale  and  cold,  and  till  thy  body  shrivels  to  a 
skeleton.  Thou  shalt  dance  from  door  to  door,  and  where 
proud,  haughty  children  dwell,  shalt  thou  knock,  that  they 
may  hear  thee,  and  be  afraid  of  thee!  Thou  shalt  dance, 
dance!" 

"Mercy!"  cried  Karen. 

But  she  did  not  hear  what  the  angel  answered,  for  the 
shoes  carried  her  away — carried  her  through  the  door  on  to 
the  field,  over  stock  and  stone,  and  she  was  always  obliged 
to  dance. 

One  morning  she  danced  past  a  door  which  she  knew 
well.  There  was  a  sound  of  psalm-singing  within,  and  a 
coffin  was  carried  out,  adorned  with  flowers.  Then  she 
knew  that  the  old  lady  was  dead,  and  she  felt  that  she  was 
deserted  by  all,  and  condemned  by  the  angel  of  heaven. 

She  danced  and  was  compelled  to  dance — to  dance  in  the 
dark  night.  The  shoes  carried  her  on  over  thorn  and  brier; 
she  scratched  herself  till  she  bled;  she  danced  away  across 
the  heath  to  a  little  lonely  house.  Here  she  knew  the  ex- 
ecutioner dwelt;  and  she  tapped  with  her  fingers  on  the 
panes,  and  called: 

"Come  out,  come  out!  I  cannot  come  in  for  I  must 
dance!" 

And  the  executioner  said: 

"You  probably  don't  know  who  I  am?  I  cut  ofT  the  bad 
people's  heads  with  my  ax,  and  mark  how  my  ax  rings!" 

"Do  not  strike  off  my  head,"  said  Karen,  "for  if  you  do  I 
cannot  repent  of  my  sin.  But  strike  off  my  feet  with  the 
red  shoes!" 

And  then  she  confessed  all  her  sin,  and  the  executioner 
cut  off  her  feet  with  the  red  shoes;  but  the  shoes  danced 
away  with  the  little  feet  over  the  fields  and  into  the  deep 
forest. 

And  he  cut  her  a  pair  of  wooden  feet,  with  crutches,  and 
taught  her  a  psalm,  which  the  criminals  always  sing;  and 
she  kissed  the  hand  that  had  held  the  ax,  and  went  away 
across  the  heath. 

"Now  I  have  suffered  pain  enough  for  the  red  shoes," 
said  she.  "Now  I  will  go  into  the  cliurch,  that  they  maV  see 
me. 

And  she  went  quickly  toward  the  church  door,  but  when 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  167 

she  came  there  the  red  shoes  danced  before  her,  so  that  she 
was  frightened,  and  turned  back. 

The  whole  week  through  she  was  sorrowful,  and  wept 
many  bitter  tears;  but  when  Sunday  came  she  said: 

"Now  I  have  suffered  and  striven  enough!  I  think  that 
I  am  just  as  good  as  many  of  those  who  sit  in  the  church 
and  carry  their  heads  high." 

And  she  went  boldly  on;  but  she  did  not  get  farther 
than  the  churchyard  gate  before  she  saw  the  red  shoes  danc- 
ing along  before  her;  then  she  was  seized  with  terror,  and 
turned  back,  and  repented  of  her  sin  right  heartily. 

And  she  went  to  the  parsonage,  and  begged  to  be  taken 
there  as  a  servant.  She  promised  to  be  industrious,  and  to 
do  all  she  could;  she  did  not  care  for  wages,  and  only  wished 
to  be  Under  a  roof  and  with  good  people.  The  clergyman's 
wife  pitied  her,  and  took  her  into  her  service.  And  she  was 
industrious  and  thoughtful.  Silently  she  sat  and  listened 
when  in  the  evening  the  pastor  read  the  Bible  aloud.  All 
the  little  ones  were  very  fond  of  her;  but  when  they  spoke  of 
dress  and  splendor  and  beauty,  she  would  shake  her  head. 

Next  Sunday  they  all  went  to  church,  and  she  was  asked 
if  she  wished  to  go  too,  but  she  looked  sadly,  with  tears  in 
her  eyes,  at  her  crutches.  And  then  the  others  went  to 
hear  God's  word;  but  she  went  alone  into  her  little  room, 
which  was  only  large  enough  to  contain  her  bed  and  a 
chair.  And  here  she  sat  with  her  hymn  book;  and  as  she 
read  it  with  a  pious  mind,  the  wind  bore  the  notes  of  the 
organ  over  to  her  from  the  church;  and  she  lifted  up  her 
face,  wet  with  tears,  and  said: 

"O  Lord,  help  me!" 

Then  the  sun  shone  so  brightly;  and  before  her  stood  the 
angel  in  the  white  garments,  the  same  as  she  had  seen  that 
night  at  the  church  door.  But  he  no  longer  grasped  the  sharp 
sword;  he  held  a  green  branch  covered  with  roses;  and  he 
touched  the  ceiling,  and  it  rose  up  high,  and  wherever  he 
touched  it  a  golden  star  gleamed  forth;  and  he  touched  the 
walls,  and  they  spread  forth  widely,  and  she  saw  the  organ 
which  was  pealing  its  rich  sounds;  and  she  saw  the  old  pic- 
tures of  clergymen  and  their  wives;  and  the  congregation 
sat  in  the  decorated  seats,  and  sang  from  their  hymn  books. 
The  church  had  come  to  the  poor  girl  in  her  narrow  room, 
or  her  chamber  had  become  a  church.    She  sat  in  the  chair 


168  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

with  the  rest  of  the  clergyman's  people;  and  when  they  had 
finished  the  psalm,  and  looked  up,  they  nodded  and  said: 

"That  was  right  that  you  came  here,  Karen." 

"It  was  mercy!"  said  she. 

And  the  organ  sounded  its  glorious  notes;  and  the  chil- 
dren's voices  singing  in  the  chorus  sounded  sweet  and  love- 
ly; the  clear  sunshine  streamed  so  warm  through  the  win- 
clow  upon  the  chair  in  which  Karen  sat;  and  her  heart  be- 
came so  filled  with  sunshine,  peace,  and  joy,  that  it  broke. 
Her  soul  flew  on  the  sunbeams  to  heaven;  and  there  was 
nobody  who  asked  after  the  Red  Shoes! 


SOUP  ON  A  SAUSAGE-PEG. 

I. 

"That  was  a  remarkably  fine  dinner  yesterday,"  observed 
an  old  Mouse  of  the  female  sex  to  another  who  had  not-been 
at  the  festive  gathering.  "I  sat  number  twent5--one  from  the 
old  Mouse  King,  so  that  I  was  not  badly  placed.  Should 
you  like  to  hear  the  order  oi  the  banquet?  The  courses 
were  very  well  arranged — moldy  bread,  bacon-rind,  tallow 
candle,  and  sausage — and  then  the  same  dishes  over  again 
from  the  beginning:  it  was  just  as  good  as  having  two  ban- 
quets in  succession.  There  was  as  much  joviality  and  agree- 
able jesting  as  in  the  family  circle.  Nothing  was  left  but  the 
pegs  at  the  ends  of  the  sausages.  And  the  discourse  turned 
upon  these;  and  at  last  the  expression,  'Soup  on  sausage- 
rinds,'  or,  as  they  have  the  proverb  in  the  neighboring  coun- 
try, 'Soup  on  a  sausage-peg,'  was  mentioned.  Everyone 
had  heard  the  proverb,  but  no  one  had  ever  tasted  the 
sausage-peg  soup,  much  less  prepared  it.  A  capital  toast 
was  drunk  to  the  inventor  of  the  soup,  and  it  was  said  he 
deserved  to  be  a  relieving  officer.  Was  not  that  witty?  And 
the  old  Mouse  King  stood  up,  and  promised  that  the  young 
female  mouse  who  could  best  prepare  that  soup  should  be 
his  Queen;  and  a  year  was  allowed  for  the  trial." 

"That  was  not  at  all  bad,"  said  the  other  Mouse;  "but  how 
'does  one  prepare  this  soup?" 

"Ah,  how  is  it  prepared?    That  is  just  what  all  the  young 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  169 

female  mice,  and  the  old  ones  too,  are  asking.  They  would 
all  very  much  like  to  be  Queen;  but  they  don't  want  to  take 
the  trouble  to  go  out  into  the  world  to  learn  how  to  prepare 
the  soup,  and  that  they  would  certainly  have  to  do.  But 
everyone  has  not  the  gift  of  leaving  the  family  circle  and 
the  chimney  corner.  In  foreign  parts  one  can't  get  cheese 
rinds  and  bacon  every  day.  No,  one  must  bear  hunger,  and 
perhaps  be  eaten  up  alive  by  a  cat." 

Such  were  probably  the  considerations  by  which  the  ma- 
jority were  deterred  from  going  out  into  the  wide  world  and 
gaining  information.  Only  four  Mice  announced  them- 
selves ready  to  depart.  They  were  young  and  brisk,  but  poor. 
Each  of  them  wished  to  proceed  to  one  of  the  four  quarters 
of  the  globe,  and  then  it  would  become  manifest  which 'of 
them  was  favored  by  fortune.  Everyone  took  a  sausage- 
peg,  so  as  to  keep  in  mind  the  object  of  the  journey.  The 
stiff  sausage-peg  was  to  be  to  them  as  a  pilgrim's  staff. 

It  was  at  the  beginning  of  May  that  they  set  out,  and  they 
did  not  return  till  the  May  of  the  following  year;  and  then 
only  three  of  them  appeared.  The  fourth  did  not  report 
herself,  nor  was  there  any  intelligence  of  her,  though  the 
day  of  trial  was  close  at  hand. 

"Yes,  there's  always  some  drawback  in  even  the  pleasant- 
est  affair,"  said  the  Mouse  King. 

And  then  he  gave  orders  that  all  mice  within  a  circuit  of 
many  miles  should  be  invited.  They  were  to  assemble  in  the 
kitchen,  where  the  three  traveled  Mice  would  stand  up  in  a 
row,  while  a  sausage-peg,  shrouded  in  crape,  was  set  up 
as  a  m.emento  of  the  fourth,  who  was  missing.  No  one  was 
to  proclaim  his  opinion  till  the  Mouse  King  had  settled 
what  was  to  be  said.    And  now  let  us  hear. 


II. 

WHAT  THE  FIRST  LITTLE  MOUSE  HAD  SEEN  AND 
LEARNED  IN  HER  TRAVELS. 

"When  I  went  out  into  the  wide  world,"  said  the  little 
Mouse,  "I  thought,  as  many  think  at  my  age,  that  I  had  al- 
ready learned  everything;  but  that  was  not  the  case.  Years 
must  pass  before  one  gets  so  far.    I  went  to  sea  at  once.    I 


170  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

went  in  a  ship  that  steered  toward  the  north.  They  had  told 
me  that  the  ship's  cook  must  know  how  to  manage  things  at 
sea;  but  it  is  easy  enough  to  manage  things  when  one  has 
plenty  of  sides  of  bacon,  and  whole  tubs  of  salt  pork,  and 
moldy  flour.  One  has  delicate  living  on  board;  but  one 
does  not  learn  to  prepare  soup  on  a  sausage-peg.  We  sailed 
along  for  many  days  and  nights;  the  ship  rocked  fearfully, 
and  we  did  not  get  off  without  a  wetting.  When  we  at  last 
reached  the  port  to  which  we  were  bound,  I  left  the  ship; 
and  it  was  high  up  in  the  far  north. 

"It  is  a  wonderful  thing  to  go  out  of  one's  own  corner  at 
home,  and  sail  in  a  ship,  where  one  has  a  sort  of  corner  too, 
and  then  suddenly  to  find  one's  self  hundreds  of  miles  away 
in  a  strange  land.  I  saw  great  pathless  forests  of  pine  and 
birch,  which  smelt  so  strong  that  I  sneezed,  and  thought  of 
sausage.  There  were  great  lakes  there  too.  When  I  came 
close  to  them  the  waters  were  quite  clear,  but  from  a  dis- 
tance they  looked  black  as  ink.  Great  swans  floated  upon 
them:  I  thought  at  first  they  were  spots  of  foam,  they  lay 
so  still;  but  then  I  saw  them  walk  and  fly,  and  I  recognized 
them.  They  belong  to  the  goose  family — one  can  see  that 
by  their  walk;  for  no  one  can  deny  his  parentage.  I  kept 
with  my  own  kind.  I  associated  with  the  forest  and  field 
mice,  who,  by  the  w^ay,  know  very  little,  especially  as  re- 
gards cookery,  though  this  was  the  very  subject  that  had 
brought  me  abroad.  The  thought  that  soup  might  be  boiled 
on  a  sausage-peg  was  such  a  startling  statement  to  them, 
that  it  flew  at  once  from  mouth  to  mouth  through  the  whole 
forest.  They  declared  the  problem  could  never  be  solved: 
and  little  did  I  think  that  there,  on  the  very  first  night,  I 
should  be  initiated  into  the  method  of  its  preparation.  It 
was  in  the  height  of  summer,  and  that,  the  mice  said,  was  the 
reason  why  the  wood  smelt  so  strongly,  and  why  the  herbs 
were  so  fragrant,  and  the  lakes  so  transparent  and  yet  so 
dark,  with  their  white  swimming  swans. 

"On  the  margin  of  the  wood,  among  three  or  four  houses, 
a  pole  as  tall  as  the  mainmast  of  a  ship  had  been  erected, 
and  from  its  summit  hung  wreaths  of  fluttering  ribbons; 
this  was  called  a  maypole.  Men  and  maids  danced  round 
the  tree,  and  sang  as  loudly  as  they  could,  to  the  violin  of 
the  fiddler.  There  were  merry  doings  at  sundown  and  in 
the  moonlight,  but  I  took  no  part  in  them — what  has  a  little 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES.  171 

mouse  to  do  with  a  May  dance?  I  sat  in  the  soft  moss  and 
held  my  sausage-peg  fast.  The  moon  threw  its  beams  es- 
pecially upon  one  spot,  where  a  tree  stood,  covered  with 
moss  so  exceedingly  fine,  I  may  almost  venture  to  say  it 
was  as  fine  as  the  skin  of  the  Mouse  King;  but  it  was  of  a 
green  color,  and  that  is  a  great  relief  to  the  eye, 

"All  at  once,  the  most  charming  little  people  came  march- 
ing forth.  They  were  only  tall  enough  to  reach  to  my  knee. 
They  looked  like  men,  but  were  better  proportioned:  they 
called  themselves  elves,  and  had  delicate  clothes  on,  of  flow- 
er-leaves trimmed  with  the  wings  of  flies  and  gnats,  which 
had  a  very  good  appearance.  Directly  they  appeared,  they 
seemed  to  seek  for  something — I  knew  not  what,  but  at 
last  some  of  them  came  toward  me,  and  the  chief  pointed  to 
my  sausage-peg,  and  said,  'That  is  just  such  a  one  as  we 
want — it  is  pointed — it  is  capital!'  and  the  longer  he  looked 
at  my  pilgrim's  staff  the  more  delighted  he  became. 

"  T  will  lend  it,'  I  said,  'but  not  to  keep.' 

"'Not  to  keep!'  they  all  repeated;  and  they  seized  the 
sausage-peg,  which  I  gave  up  to  them,  and  danced  av/ay  to 
the  spot  where  the  fine  moss  grew ;  and  here  they  set  up  the 
peg  in  the  midst  of  the  green.  They  wanted  to  have  a  may- 
pole of  their  own,  and  the  one  they  now  had  seemed  cut  out 
for  them;  and  they  decorated  it  so  that  it  was  beautiful  to 
behold. 

"First,  little  spiders  spun  it  round  with  gold  thread,  and 
hung  it  all  over  with  fluttering  veils  and  flags,  so  finely 
woven,  bleached  so  snowy  white  in  the  moonshine,  that  they 
dazzled  my  eyes.  They  took  colors  from  the  butterfly's 
wing,  and  strewed  these  over  the  white  linen,  and  flowers 
and  diamonds  gleamed  upon  it,  so  that  I  did  not  know  my 
sausage-peg  again :  there  is  not  in  all  the  world  such  a  may- 
pole as  they  had  made  of  it.  And  now  came  the  real  great 
party  of  elves.  They  were  quite  without  clothes,  and  looked 
as  genteel  as  possible:  and  they  invited  me  to  be  present  at 
the  feast;  but  I  was  to  keep  at  a  certain  distance,  for  I  was 
too  large  for  them. 

"And  now  began  such  music!  It  sounded  like  thousands 
oi  glass  bells,  so  full,  so  rich,  that  I  thought  the  swans  were 
singing.  I  fancied  also  that  I  heard  the  voice  of  the  cuckoo 
and  the  blackbird,  and  at  last  the  whole  forest  seemed  to 
join  in.    I  heard  children's  voices,  the  sound  of  bells,  and 


172  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

the  song  of  birds;  the  most  glorious  melodies — and  all 
came  from  the  elves'  rnaypole,  namely,  my  sausage-peg. 
I  should  never  have  believed  that  so  much  could  come  out 
of  it;  but  that  depends  very  much  upon  the  hands  into  which 
it  falls.  I  was  quite  touched.  I  wept,  as  a  little  mouse  may 
weep,  with  pure  pleasure. 

"The  night  was  far  too  short;  but  it  is  not  longer  up 
yonder  at  that  season.  In  the  morning  dawn  the  breeze  be- 
gan to  blow,  the  mirror  of  the  forest  lake  was  covered  with 
ripples,  and  all  the  delicate  veils  and  flags  fluttered  away 
in  the  air.  The  waving  garlands  of  spider's  web,  the  hang- 
ing bridges  and  balustrades,  and  whatever  else  they  are 
called,  flew  away  as  if  they  were  nothing  at  all.  Six  elves 
brought  me  back  my  sausage-peg,  and  asked  me  at  the  same 
time  if  I  had  any  wish  that  they  could  gratify;  so  I  asked 
them  if  they  could  tell  me  how  soup  was  made  on  a  sausage- 

"  'How  we  do  it?'  asked  the  chief  of  the  elves,  with  a 
smile.  'Why,  you  have  just  seen  it.  I  fancy  you  hardly 
know  your  sausage-peg  again?' 

"  'You  only  mean  that  as  a  joke,'  I  replied.  And  then  I 
told  them  in  so  many  words  why  I  had  undertaken  a  jour- 
ney, and  what  great  hopes  were  founded  on^  the  operation 
at  home.  'What  advantage,'  I  asked,  'can  accrue  to  our 
Mouse  King,  and  to  our  whole  powerful  state,  from  the  fact 
of  my  having  witnessed  all  this  festivity?  I  cannot  shake  it 
out  of  the  sausage-peg,  and  say,  "Look,  here  is  the  peg,  now 
the  soup  will  come."  That  would  be  a  dish  that  could  only 
be  put  on  the  table  when  the  guests  had  dined.' 

"Then  the  elf  dipped  his  little  finger  into  the  cup  of  a  blue 
violet,  and  said  to  me, 

"  'See  here!  I  will  anoint  your  pilgrim's  stafif;  and  when 
you  go  back  to  your  country,  and  come  to  the  castle  of  the 
Mouse  King,  you  have  but  to  touch  him  with  the  staff,  and 
violets  will  spring  forth  and  cover  its  whole  surface,  even  in 
the  coldest  winter-time.  And  so  I  think  I've  given  you 
something  to  carry  home,  and  a  little  more  than  some- 
thing!'" 

But  before  the  little  Mouse  said  what  this  "something 
more"  was.  she  stretched  her  staff  out  toward  the  King,  and 
in  very  truth  the  most  beautiful  bunch  of  violets  burst  forth; 
and  the  scent  was  so  powerful  that  the  Mouse  King  incon- 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY   TALES.  173 

tinently  ordered  the  mice  that  stood  nearest  the  chimney 
to  thrust  their  tails  into  the  fire  and  create  a  smell  of  burn- 
ing, for  the  odor  of  the  violets  was  not  to  be  borne,  and  was 
not  of  the  kind  he  liked. 

"But  what  was  the  'something  more/  of  which  you 
spoke?''  asked  the  Mouse  King. 

"Why,"  the  Httle  Mouse  answered,  "I  think  it  is  what  they 
call  effect!"  and  herewith  she  turned  the  staff  round,  and  lo! 
there  was  not  a  single  flower  to  be  seen  upon  it;  she  only 
held  the  naked  skewer,  and  lifted  this  up,  as  a  musical  con- 
ductor lifts  his  baton.  "  'Violets,'  the  elf  said  to  me,  "  'are 
for  sight,  and  smell,  and  touch.  Therefore  it  yet  remains 
to  provide  for  hearing  and  taste !' " 

And  now  the  little  Mouse  began  to  beat  time;  and  music 
was  heard,  not  such  as  sounded  in  the  forest  among  the 
elves,  but  such  as  is  heard  in  the  kitchen.  There  was  a 
bubbling  sound  of  boiling  and  roasting;  and  all  at  once  it 
seemed  as  if  the  sound  were  rushing  through  every  chimney, 
and  pots  and  kettles  were  boiling  over.  The  fire-shovel 
hammered  upon  the  brass  kettle,  and  then,  on  a  sudden,  all 
was  quiet  again.  They  heard  the  quiet  subdued  song  of  the 
tea-kettle,  and  it  was  wonderful  to  hear — they  could  not 
quite  tell  if  the  kettle  were  beginning  to  sing  or  leaving 
off;  and  the  little  pot  simmered,  and  the  big  pot  simmered, 
and  neither  cared  for  the  other:  there  seemed  to  be  no 
reason  at  all  in  the  pots.  And  the  little  Mouse  flourished 
her  baton  more  and  more  wildly;  the  pot  foamed,  threw 
up  large  bubbles,  boiled  over,  and  the  wind  roared  and 
whistled  through  the  chimney.  Oh!  It  became  so  terrible 
that  the  little  Mouse  lost  her  stick  at  last. 

"That  was  a  heavy  soup!"  said  the  Mouse  King.  "Shall 
we  not  soon  hear  about  the  preparation?" 

"That  was  all,"  said  the  little  Mouse,  with  a  bow. 

"That  all !  Then  we  should  be  glad  to  hear  what  the  next 
has  to  relate,"  said  the  Mouse  King. 

III. 

WHAT  THE  SECOND  LITTLE  MOUSE  HAD  TO  TELL. 

"I  was  born  in  the  palace  library,"  said  the  second  Mouse. 
"I  and  several  members  of  our  family  never  knew  the  hapi)i- 


174  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

ness  of  getting  into  the  dining  room,  much  less  into  the 
store-room;  on  my  journey,  and  here  to-day,  are  the  only 
times  I  have  seen  a  kitchen.  We  have  indeed  often  been 
compelled  to  suffer  hunger  in  the  library,  but  we  get  a  good 
deal  of  knowledge.  The  rumor  penetrated  even  to  us,  of 
the  royal  prize  offered  to  those  who  could  cook  soup  upon  a 
sausage-peg;  and  it  was  my  old  grandmother  who  there- 
upon ferreted  out  a  manuscript,  which  she  certainly  could 
not  read,  but  which  she  had  heard  read  out,  and  in  which 
it  was  written — Those  who  are  poets  can  boil  soup  upon 
a  sausage-peg.'  She  asked  me  if  I  were  a  poet.  I  felt 
quite  innocent  on  the  subject,  and  then  she  told  me  I  must 
go  out,  and  manage  to  become  one.  I  again  asked  what 
was  requisite  in  that  particular — for  it  was  as  difficult  for  me 
to  find  that  out  as  to  prepare  the  soup;  but  grandmother 
had  heard  a  good  deal  of  reading,  and  she  said  that  three 
things  were  especially  necessary:  'Understanding,  imagina- 
tion, feeling.  If  you  can  manage  to  obtain  these  three, 
you  are  a  poet,  and  the  sausage-peg  affair  will  be  quite  easy 
to  you.' 

"And  I  went  forth,  and  marched  toward  the  west,  away 
into  the  wide  world,  to  become  a  poet. 

"Understanding  is  the  most  important  thing  in  every  af- 
fair. I  knew  that,  for  the  two  other  things  are  not  held  in  half 
such  respect,  and  consequently  I  went  out  first  to  seek 
understanding.  Yes,  where  does  he  dwell?  'Go  to  the  ant 
and  be  wise,'  said  the  great  King  of  the  Jews;  I  knew  that 
from  my  library  experience;  and  I  never  stopped  till  I  came 
to  the  first  great  ant-hill,  and  there  I  placed  myself  on  the 
watch,  to  become  wise. 

"The  ants  are  a  respectable  people.  They  are  under- 
standing itself.  Everything  with  them  is  like  a  well-worked 
sum,  that  comes  right.  To  work  and  to  lay  eggs,  they  say, 
is  to  live  while  you  live,  and  to  provide  for  posterity;  and 
accordingly  that  is  what  they  do.  They  were  divided  into 
the  clean  and  the  dirty  ants.  The  rank  of  each  is  indicated 
by  a  number,  and  the  Ant  Queen  is  number  one;  and  her 
view  is  the  only  correct  one,  she  is  the  receptacle  of  all  wis- 
dom; and  that  was  important  for  me  to  know.  She  spoke 
so  much,  and  it  was  all  so  clever,  that  it  sounded  to  me  like 
nonsense.  She  declared  her  ant-hill  was  the  loftiest  thing 
in  the  world;  though  close  by  it  grew  a  tree,  which  was 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  175 

certainly  loftier,  much  loftier,  that  could  not  be  denied,  and 
therefore  it  was  never  mentioned.  One  evening  an  ant  had 
lost  herself  upon  the  tree;  she  had  crept  up  the  stem — 
not  up  to  the  crown,  but  higher  than  any  ant  had  chmbed 
until  then;  and  when  she  turned  and  came  back  home, 
she  talked  of  something  far  higher  than  the  ant-hill  that  she 
had  found  in  her  travels;  but  the  other  ants  considered  that 
an  insult  to  the  whole  community,  and  consequently  she  was 
condemned  to  wear  a  muzzle,  and  to  continual  solitary  con- 
finement. But  a  short  time  afterward  another  ant  got  on 
the  tree,  and  made  the  same  journey  and  the  same  dis- 
covery: and  this  one  spoke  with  emphasis,  and  distinctly 
as  they  said;  and  as,  moreover,  she  was  one  of  the  pure 
ants  and  very  much  respected,  they  believed  her;  and  when 
she  died  they  erected  an  egg-shell  as  a  memorial  of  her, 
for  they  had  a  great  respect  for  the  sciences.  I  saw,"  con- 
tinued the  little  Mouse,  "that  the  ants  are  always  running  to 
and  fro  with  their  eggs  on  their  backs.  One  of  them 
once  dropped  her  egg;  she  exerted  herself  greatly  to  pick 
it  up  again,  but  she  could  not  succeed.  The  two  others 
came  up,  and  helped  her  with  all  their  might,  insomuch 
that  they  nearly  dropped  their  own  eggs  over  it;  but  then 
they  certainly  at  once  relaxed  their  exertions,  for  each 
should  think  of  himself  first — the  Ant  Queen  had  declared 
that  by  so  doing  they  exhibited  at  once  heart  and  under- 
standing, 

"  'These  two  qualities,'  she  said,  'place  us  ants  on  the  high- 
est step  among  all  reasoning  beings.  Understanding  is 
seen  among  us  all  in  predominant  measure,  and  I  have 
the  greatest  share  of  understanding.'  And  so  saying,  she 
raised  herself  on  her  hind  legs,  so  that  she  was  easily  to 
be  recognized.  I  could  not  be  mistaken,  and  I  ate  her  up. 
We  were  to  go  to  the  ants  to  learn  wisdom — and  I  had  got 
the  Queen! 

"I  now  proceeded  nearer  to  the  before-mentioned  lofty 
tree.  It  was  an  oak,  and  had  a  great  trunk  and  a  far-spread- 
ing top,  and  was  very  old.  I  knew  that  a  living  being  dwelt 
here,  a  Dryad,  as  it  is  called,  who  is  born  with  the  tree, 
and  dies  with  it.  I  had  heard  about  this  in  the  library; 
and  now  I  saw  an  oak  tree  and  an  oak  girl.  She  uttered 
a  piercing  cry  when  she  saw  me  so  near.  Like  all  females, 
she  was  very  much  afraid  of  mice;    and  she  had  more 


176  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

ground  for  fear  than  others,  for  I  might  have  gnawn 
through  the  stem  of  the. tree  on  which  her  Hfe  depended. 
I  accosted  the  maiden  in  a  friendly  and  honest  way,  and 
bade  her  take  courage.  And  she  took  me  up  in  her  dehcate 
hand;  and  when  I  had  told  her  my  reason  for  coming  out 
into  the  wide  world,  she  promised  me  that  perhaps  on  that 
every  evening  I  should  have  one  of  the  two  treasures  of 
which  I  was  still  in  quest.  She  told  me  that  Phantasus,  the 
genius  of  imagination,  was  her  very  good  friend,  that  he 
was  beautiful  as  the  god  of  love,  and  that  he  rested  many 
an  hour  under  the  leafy  boughs  of  the  tree,  which  then 
rustled  more  strongly  than  ever  over  the  pair  of  them.  He 
called  her  his  Dryad,  she  said,  and  the  tree  his  tree,  for  the 
grand  gnarled  oak  was  just  to  his  taste,  with  its  root  burrow- 
ing so  deep  in  the  earth,  and  the  stem  and  crown  rising 
so  high  out  in  the  fresh  air,  and  knowing  the  beating  snow, 
and  the  sharp  wind,  and  the  warm  sunshine  as  they  deserve 
to  be  known.  'Yes,'  the  Dryad  continued,  'the  birds  sing 
aloft  there  in  the  branches,  and  tell  each  other  of  strange 
countries  they  have  visited;  and  on  the  only  dead  bough 
the  stork  has  built  a  nest  which  is  highly  ornamental,  and, 
moreover,  one  gets  to  hear  something  of  the  land  of  the 
Pyramids.  All  that  is  very  pleasing  to  Phantasus;  but  it 
is  not  enough  for  him:  I  myself  must  talk  to  him,  and  tell 
him  of  life  in  the  woods,  and  must  revert  to  my  childhood, 
Vv^hen  I  was  little,  and  the  tree  such  a  delicate  thing  that 
a  stinging  nettle  overshadowed  it— and  I  have  to  tell  every- 
thing, till  now  that  the  tree  is  great  and  strong.  Sit  you 
down  under  the  green  thyme,  and  pay  attention;  and  when 
Phantasus  comes,  I  shall  find  an  opportunity  ^o  pinch  his 
wings,  and  to  pull  out  a  little  feather.  Take  the  pen — no 
better  is  given  to  any  poet — and  it  will  be  enough  for 
you !' 

"And  when  Phantasus  came  the  feather  was  plucked,  and 
I  seized  it,"  said  the  little  Mouse.  "I  put  it  in  water,  and 
held  it  there  till  it  grew  soft.  It  was  very  hard  to  digest, 
but  I  nibbled  it  up  at  last.  It  is  not  very  easy  to  gnaw  one's 
self  into  being  a  poet,  though  there  are  many  things  one 
must  do.  Now  I  had  these  two  things,  imagination  and 
understanding,  and  through  these  I  knew  that  the  third  was 
to  be  found  in  the  library;  for  a  great  man  has  said  and 
written  that  there  are  romances  whose  sole  and  single  use 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  177 

is  that  they  reHeve  people  of  their  superfluous  tears,  and 
that  they  are,  in  fact,  a  sort  of  sponges  sucking  up  human 
emotion.  I  remember  a  few  of  these  old  books,  which  had 
always  looked  especially  palatable,  and  were  much  thumbed 
and  very  greasy,  having  evidently  absorbed  a  great  deal  of 
feeling  into  themselves. 

"I  betook  myself  back  to  the  library,  and,  so  to  speak,  de- 
voured a  whole  novel — that  is,  the  essence  of  it,  the  interior 
part,  for  I  left  the  crust  or  binding.  When  I  had  digested 
this,  and  a  second  one  in  addition,  I  felt  a  stirring  within  me, 
and  I  ate  a  bit  of  a  third  romance,  and  now  I  was  a  poet. 
I  said  so  to  myself,  and  told  the  others  also.  I  had  head- 
ache, and  chestache,  and  I  can't  tell  what  aches  besides. 
I  began  thinking  what  kind  of  stories  could  be  made  to 
refer  to  a  sausage-peg;  and  many  pegs,  and  sticks,  and 
staves,  and  splinters  came  into  my  mind— the  Ant  Queen 
must  have  had  a  particularly  fine  understanding.  I  re- 
membered the  man  who  took  a  white  stick  in  his  mouth, 
by  which  means  he  could  render  himself  and  the  stick  in- 
visible; I  thought  of  stick  hobby  horse,  of  'stock  rhymes,' 
of  'breaking  the  staff  over  an  offender,'  and  goodness 
knows  how  many  phrases  more  concerning  sticks,  stocks, 
staves,  and  pegs.  All  my  thoughts  ran  upon  sticks, 
staves,  and  pegs;  and  when  one  is  a  poet  (and  I  am  a  poet, 
for  I  have  worked  most  terribly  hard  to  become  one)  a 
person  can  make  poetry  on  these  subjects.  I  shall  there- 
fore be  able  to  wait  upon  you  every  day  with  a  poem  or  a 
history — and  that's  the  soup  I  have  to  offer." 

"Let  us  hear  what  the  third  has  to  say,"  was  now  the 
Mouse  King's  command. 

"Peep!  peep!"  cried  a  small  voice  at  the  kitchen  door, 
and  a  little  Mouse — it  was  the  fourth  of  the  ]\lice  who  had 
contended  for  the  prize,  the  one  whom  they  looked  upon  as 
dead — shot  in  like  an  arrow.  She  toppled  the  sausage-peg 
with  the  crape  covering  over  in  a  moment.  She  had  been 
running  day  and  night,  and  had  traveled  on  the  railway,  in 
the  goods  train,  having  watched  her  opportunity,  and  yet 
she  had  almost  come  too  late.  She  pressed  forward,  look- 
ing very  much  rumpled,  and  she  had  lost  her  sausage-peg, 
but  not  her  voice,  for  she  at  once  took  up  the  word,  as  if 
they  had  been  waiting  for  her,  and  wanted  to  hear  none  but 

12 


178  ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES. 

her,  and  as  if  everything  else  in  the  world  were  of  no  conse- 
quence. She  spoke  at  once,  and  spoke  fully:  she  had  ap- 
peared so  suddenly  that  no  one  found  time  to  object  to  her 
speech  or  to  her,  while  she  was  speaking.  And  now  let  us 
hear  what  she  said: 


IV. 

WHAT  THE  FOURTH  MOUSE,  WHO  SPOKE  BEFORE  THE 
THIRD.  HAD  TO  TELL. 

"I  betook  myself  immediately  to  the  largest  town,"  she 
said ;  "the  name  has  escaped  me — I  have  a  bad  memory  for 
names.  From  the  railway  I  was  carried,  with  some  confis- 
cated goods,  to  the  council  house,  and  when  I  arrived  there, 
I  ran  into  the  dwelling  of  the  jailer.  The  jailer  was  talk- 
ing of  his  prisoners,  and  especially  of  one  who  had  spoken 
unconsidered  words.  These  words  had  given  rise  to  others, 
and  these  latter  had  been  written  down  and  recorded. 

"  'The  whole  thing  is  soup  on  a  sausage-peg.'  said  the 
jailer;   'but  the  soup  may  cost  him  his  neck.' 

"Now,  this  gave  me  an  interest  in  the  prisoner,"  continued 
the  Mouse,  "and  I  watched  my  opportunity  and  slipped 
into  his  prison — for  there's  a  mouse  hole  to  be  found  be- 
hind every  locked  door.  The  prisoner  looked  pale,  and  had 
a  great  beard  and  bright,  sparkling  eyes.  The  lamp  flicker- 
ed and  smoked,  but  the  walls  were  so  accustomed  to  that, 
that  they  grew  none  the  blacker  for  it.  The  prisoner 
scratched  pictures  and  verses  in  white  upon  the  black 
ground,  but  I  did  not  read  them.  I  think  he  found  it 
tedious,  and  I  was  a  welcome  guest.  He  lured  me  with 
bread-crumbs,  with  whistling,  and  with  friendly  words;  he 
was  glad  to  see  me,  and  gradually  I  got  to  trust  him.  and 
we  became  good  friends.  He  let  me  run  over  his  hand,  his 
arm,  and  into  his  sleeve;  he  let  me  creep  about  in  his 
beard,  and  called  me  his  little  friend.  I  really  got  to  love 
him,  for  these  things  are  reciprocal.  I  forgot  my  mission 
in  the  wide  world,  forgot  my  sausage-peg;  that  I  had  placed 
in  a  crack  in  the  floor — it's  lying  there  still.  I  wished  to 
stay  where  I  was,  for  if  I  went  away  the  poor  prisoner  would 
have  no  one  at  all,  and  that's  having  too  little  in  this  world. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY   TALES.  179 

I  stayed,  but  he  did  not  stay.  He  spoke  to  me  very  mourn- 
fully the  last  time,  gave  me  twice  as  much  bread  and  cheese 
as  usual,  and  kissed  his  hand  to  me;  then  he  went  away, 
and  never  came  back.     I  don't  know  his  history. 

"'Soup  on  a  sausage-peg!'  said  the  jailer,  to  whom  I 
now  went;  but  I  should  not  have  trusted  him.  He  took  me 
in  his  hand,  certainly,  but  he  popped  me  into  a  cage,  a 
treadmill.  That's  a  horrible  engine,  in  which  you  go  round 
and  round  without  getting  any  farther;  and  people  laugh  at 
you  into  the  bargain. 

"The  jailers  granddaughter  was  a  charming  little  thing, 
with  a  mass  of  curly  hair  that  shone  like  gold,  and  such 
merry  eyes,  and  such  a  smiling  mouth! 

"  'You  poor  little  mouse,'  she  said,  as  she  peeped  into 
my  ugly  cage;  and  she  drew  out  the  iron  rod,  and  forth  I 
jumped  to  the  window  board,  and  from  thence  to  the  roof 
spout.  Free!  free!  I  thought  only  of  that,  and  not  of  the 
goal  of  my  journey. 

"It  was  dark,  and  night  was  coming  on.  I  took  up  my 
quarters  in  an  old  tower,  where  dwelt  a  watchman  and  an 
owl.  That  is  a  creature  like  a  cat,  who  has  the  great  fail- 
ing that  she  eats  mice.  But  one  may  be  mistaken,  and  so 
was  I,  for  this  was  a  very  respectable,  well-educated  old 
owl:  she  knew  more  than  the  watchman,  and  as  much  as 
I.  The  young  owls  were  always  making  a  racket;  but  'Go 
and  make  soup  on  a  sausage-peg'  were  the  hardest  words 
she  could  prevail  on  herself  to  utter,  she  was  so  fondly 
attached  to  her  family.  Her  conduct  inspired  me  with  so 
much  confidence,  that  from  the  crack  in  which  I  was  crouch- 
ing I  called  out  'peep!'  to  her.  This  confidence  of  mine 
pleased  her  hugely,  and  she  assured  me  I  should  be  under 
her  protection,  and  that  no  creature  should  be  allowed  to 
do  me  wrong;  she  would  reserve  me  for  herself,  for  the 
winter,  when  there  would  be  short  commons. 

"She  was  in  every  respect  a  clever  woman,  and  explained 
to  me  how  the  watchman  could  only  'whoop'  with  the  horn 
that  hung  at  his  side,  adding,  'He  is  terribly  conceited  about 
it,  and  imagines  he's  an  owl  in  the  tower.  Wants  to  do 
great  things,  but  is  very  small — soup  on  a  sausage-peg!' 

"I  begged  the  owl  to  give  me  a  recipe  for  this  soup,  and 
then  she  explained  the  matter  to  me. 

"'Soup  on  a  sausage-peg,'  she  said,  'was  only  a  human 


180  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

proverb,  and  was  to  be  understood  thus:  Each  thinks  his 
own  way  best,  but  the  whole  signifies  nothing.' 

"'Nothing!'  I  exclaimed.  I  was  quite  struck.  Truth  is 
not  always  agreeable,  but  truth  is  above  everything;  and 
that's  what  the  old  owl  said.  I  now  thought  about  it,  and 
readily  perceived  that  if  I  bought  what  was  above  every- 
thing I  bought  something  far  beyond  soup  on  a  sausage- 
peg.  So  I  hastened  away,  that  I  might  get  home  in  time, 
and  bring  the  highest  and  best,  that  is  above  everything — 
namely  the  truth.  The  mice  are  an  enlightened  people,  and 
the  King  is  above  them  all  He  is  capable  of  making  me 
Queen,  for  the  sake  of  truth." 

"Your  truth  is  a  falsehood,"  said  the  Mouse  who  had  not 
yet  spoken.  "I  can  prepare  the  soup,  and  I  mean  to  pre- 
pare it." 

V. 

HOW  IT  WAS  PREPARED. 

"I  did  not  travel,"  the  third  mouse  said.  'T  remained  in 
my  country — that's  the  right  thing  to  do.  There's  no  neces- 
sity for  traveling;  one  can  get  everything  as  good  here.  I 
stayed  at  home.  I've  not  learned  what  I  know  from  super- 
natural beings,  or  gobbled  it  up,  or  held  converse  with 
owls.  I  have  what  I  know  through  my  own  reflections. 
Will  you  make  haste  and  put  that  kettle  upon  the  fire?  So 
— now  water  must  be  poured  in — quite  full — up  to  the 
brim !  So — now  more  fuel — make  up  the  fire,  that  the  water 
may  boil — it  must  boil  over  and  over!  So — I  now  throw 
the  peg  in.  Will  the  King  now  be  pleased  to  dip  his  tail 
in  the  boiling  water,  and  to  stir  it  round  with  the  said  tail? 
The  longer  the  King  stirs  it,  the  more  powerful  will  the 
soup  become.  It  costs  nothing  at  all — no  further  materials 
are  necessary,  only  stir  it  round!" 

"Cannot  anyone  else  do  that?"  asked  the  Mouse  King. 

"No,"  replied  the  Mouse.  "The  power  is  contained  only 
in  the  tail  of  the  Mouse  King." 

And  the  water  boiled  and  bubbled,  and  the  Mouse  King 
stood  close  beside  the  kettle — there  was  almost  danger  in 
it — and  he  put  forth  his  tail,  as  the  mice  do  in  the  dairy 
when  tliey  skim  the  cream,  from  a  pan  of  milk    afterward 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  181 

licking  their  creamy  tails;  but  his  tail  only  penetrated  into 
the  hot  steam,  and  then  he  sprang  hastily  down  from  the 
hearth. 

"Of  course — certainly  you  are  my  Queen,"  he  said.  "We'll 
adjourn  the  soup  question  till  our  golden  wedding  in  fifty 
years'  time,  so  that  the  poor  of  my  subjects,  who  will  then 
be  fed,  may  have  something  to  which  they  can  look  for- 
ward with  pleasure  for  a  long  time." 

■And  soon  the  wedding  was  held.  But  many  of  the  mice 
said,  as  they  were  returning  home,  that  it  could  not  be 
really  called  soup  on  a  sausage-peg,  but  rather  soup  on 
a  mouse's  tail.  They  said  that  some  of  the  stories  had  been 
very  cleverly  told.  But  the  whole  thing  might  have  been 
different. 

"I  should  have  told  it  so — and  so — and  so !" 

Thus  said  the  critics,  who  are  always  wise — after  the 
fact. 

And  this  story  went  out  into  the  wide  world,  everywhere; 
and  opinions  varied  concerning  it,  but  the  story  remained 
as  it  was.  And  that  is  the  best  in  great  things  and  in  small, 
so  also  with  regard  to  soup  on  a  sausage-peg — not  to  expect 
any  thanks  for  it. 


THE     SHEPHERDESS     AND      THE      CHIMNEY- 
SWEEPER. 

Have  you  ever  seen  a  very  old  wooden  cupboard,  quite 
black  with  age,  and  ornamented  with  carved  foliage  and 
arabesques?  Just  such  a  cupboard  stood  in  a  parlor:  it  had 
been  a  legacy  from  the  great-grandmother,  and  was  covered 
from  top  to  bottom  with  carved  roses  and  tulips.  There 
were  the  quaintest  flourishes  upon  it,  and  from  among 
these  peered  forth  little  stags'  heads  with  antlers.  In  the 
middle  of  the  cupboard  door  an  entire  figure  of  a  man  had 
been  cut  out:  he  was  certainly  ridiculous  to  look  at,  and 
he  grinned,  for  you  could  not  call  it  laughing;  he  had 
goat's  legs,  little  horns  on  his  head,  and  a  long  beard.  The 
children  in  the  room  always  called  him  the  Billygoat-legs- 
Major-and-Lieutenant  -  General  -  War  -  Commander  -  Ser- 
geant;  that  was  a  difficult  name  to  pronounce,  and  there 


182  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

are  not  many  who  obtain  this  title;  but  it  was  something  to 
have  cut  him  out.  And  there  he  was !  He  was  always  look- 
ing at  the  table  under  the  mirror,  for  on  this  table  stood 
a  lovely  little  Shepherdess  made  of  china.  Her  shoes  were 
gilt,  her  dress  was  adorned  with  a  red  rose,  and  besides 
this  she  had  a  golden  hat  and  a  shepherd's  crook:  she  was 
very  lovely.  Close  by  her  stood  a  little  Chimney-sweeper, 
black  as  a  coal,  and  also  made  of  porcelain:  he  was  as  clean 
and  neat  as  any  other  man,  for  it  was  only  make-be- 
lieve that  he  was  a  sweep;  the  china-workers  might  just 
as  well  have  made  a  prince  of  him,  if  they  had  been  so 
minded. 

There  he  stood  very  nattily  with  his  ladder,  and  with  a 
face  as  white  and  pink  as  a  girl's ;  and  that  was  really  a  fault, 
for  he  ought  to  have  been  a  little  black.  He  stood  quite 
close  to  the  Shepherdess;  they  had  both  been  placed  where 
they  stood;  but  as  they  had  been  placed  there,  they  had 
become  engaged  to  each  other.  They  suited  each  other 
well.  Both  were  young  people,  both  made  of  the  same  kind 
of  china,  and  both  were  brittle. 

Close  to  them  stood  another  figure,  three  times  greater 
than  they.  This  was  an  old  Chinaman,  who  could  nod.  He 
was  also  of  porcelain,  and  declared  himself  to  be  the  grand- 
father of  the  little  Shepherdess;  but  he  could  not  prove  his 
relationship.  He  declared  he  had  authority  over  her,  and 
that  therefore  he  had  nodded  to  Mr.  Billygoat-legs-Lieuten- 
ant-and-Major-General-War-Commxander-Sergeant  who  was 
wooing  her  for  his  wife. 

"Then  you  will  get  a  husband!"  said  the  old  China- 
man, "a  man  who  I  verily  believe  is  made  of  mahogany. 
He  can  make  you  Billygoat-legs-Lieutenant-and-Major- 
General- War-Commander-Sergeant's  lady:  he  has  the 
whole  cupboard  full  of  silver  plate,  which  he  hoards  up  in 
secret  drawers." 

"I  won't  go  into  that  dark  cupboard!"  said  the  little 
Shepherdess.  "I  have  heard  tell  that  he  has  eleven  porce- 
lain wives  in  there." 

"Then  you  may  become  the  twelfth,"  cried  the  China- 
man. "This  night,  so  soon  as  it  rattles  in  the  old  cupboard, 
you  shall  be  married,  as  true  as  I  am  an  old  Chinaman!'' 

And  with  that  he  nodded  his  head  and  fell  asleep.    But 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  183 

the  little  Shepherdess  wept  and  looked  at  her  heart's  be- 
loved, the  porcelain  Chimney-Sweeper. 

"I  should  like  to  beg  of  you,"  said  she,  "to  go  out  with 
me  into  the  wide  world,  for  we  cannot  remain  here." 

"I'll  do  whatever  you  like,"  rephed  the  Chimney-Sweep. 
"Let  us  start  directly!  I  think  I  can  keep  you  by  exercising 
my  profession." 

"If  we  were  only  safely  down  from  the  table!"  said  she. 
"I  shall  not  be  happy  until  we  are  out  in  the  wide  world." 

And  he  comforted  her,  and  showed  her  how  she  must 
place  her  little  foot  upon  the  carved  corners  and  the  gilded 
toliage  at  the  foot  of  the  table;  he  brought  his  ladder,  too, 
to  help  her,  and  they  were  soon  together  upon  the  floor. 
But  when  they  looked  up  at  the  old  cupboard  there  was 
a  great  commotion  within:  all  the  carved  stags  were  stretch- 
ing out  their  heads,  rearing  up  their  antlers,  and  turning 
their  necks;  and  the  Billygoat-legs-Lieutenant-and-Major- 
General-War-Commander-Sergeant  sprang  high  in  the  air, 
and  called  across  to  the  old  Chinaman: 

"Now  they're  running  away!  now  they're  running  away!" 

Then  they  were  a  little  frightened,  and  jumped  quickly 
into  the  drawer  of  the  window-seat.  Here  were  three  or 
four  packs  of  cards  which  were  not  complete,  and  a  little 
puppet-show,  which  had  been  built  up  as  well  as  it  could  be 
done.  There  plays  were  acted,  and  all  the  ladies,  diamonds, 
clubs,  hearts,  and  spades,  sat  in  the  first  row,  fanning  them- 
selves; and  behind  them  stood  all  the  knaves,  showing  that 
they  had  a  head  above  and  below,  as  is  usual  in  playing- 
cards.  The  play  was  about  two  people  who  were  not  to  be 
married  to  each  other,  and  the  Shepherdess  wept,  because 
it  was  just  like  her  own  history. 

"I  cannot  possibly  bear  this!"  said  she.  "I  must  go  out 
of  the  drawer." 

But  when  they  arrived  on  the  floor,  and  looked  up  at  the 
drawer,  the  old  Chinaman  was  awake,  and  was  shaking  over 
his  whole  body — for  below  he  was  all  one  lump. 

"Now  the  old  Chinaman's  coming!"  cried  the  little  Shep- 
herdess; and  she  fell  down  upon  her  porcelain  knee,  so 
startled  was  she. 

"I  have  an  idea,"  said  the  Chimney-Sweeper.  "Shall  we 
creep  into  the  great  pot-pourri  vase  which  stands  in  the  cor- 


184  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY   TALES. 

ner?     Then  we  can  lie  on  roses  and  lavender,  and  throw 
salt  in  his  eyes  if  he  comes.'' 

"That  will  be  of  no  use,"  she  replied.  "Besides,  I  know 
that  the  old  Chinaman  and  the  pot-pourri  vase  were  once 
engaged  to  each  other,  and  a  kind  of  liking  always  remains 
when  people  have  stood  in  such  a  relation  to  each  other. 
No,  there's  nothing  left  for  us  but  to  go  out  into  the  wide 
world." 

"Have  you  really  courage  to  go  into  the  wide  world 
with  me?"  asked  the  Chimney-Svv^eeper.  "Have  you  con- 
sidered how  wide  the  world  is,  and  that  we  can  never  come 
back  here  again?" 

"I  have,"  replied  she. 

And  the  Chimney-Sweeper  looked  fondly  at  her,  and 
said: 

"My  way  is  through  the  chimney.  If  you  have  really 
courage  to  creep  with  me  through  the  stove — through  the 
iron  fire-box  as  well  as  up  the  pipe,  then  we  can  get  out 
into  the  chimney,  and  I  know  how  to  find  my  way  through 
there.  We'll  mount  so  high  that  they  can't  catch  us, 
and  quite  at  the  top  there's  a  hole  that  leads  out  into  the 
wide  world." 

And  he  led  her  to  the  door  of  the  stove. 

"It  looks  very  black  there,"  said  she;  but  still  she  went 
with  him,  through  the  box  and  through  the  pipe,  where  it 
was  pitch-dark  night. 

"Now  we  are  in  the  chimney,"  said  he;  "and  look,  look! 
up  yonder  a  beautiful  star  is  shining." 

And  it  was  a  real  star  in  the  sky,  which  shone  straight 
down  upon  them,  as  if  it  would  show  them  the  way.  And 
they  clambered  and  crept:  it  was  a  frightful  way,  and  ter- 
rible steep;  but  he  supported  her  and  helped  her  up;  he 
held  her,  and  showed  her  the  best  places  where  she  could 
place  her  little  porcelain  feet;  and  thus  they  reached  the 
edge  of  the  chimney,  and  upon  that  they  sat  down,  for 
they  were  desperately  tired,  as  they  well  might  be. 

The  sky  wdth  all  its  stars  was  high  above,  and  all  the 
roofs  of  the  town  deep  below  them.  They  looked  far 
around — far,  far  out  into  the  world.  The  poor  Shepherdess 
had  never  thought  of  it  as  it  really  was:  she  leaned  her 
little  head  against  the  Chimney-Sweeper,  then  she  wept  so 
bitterly  that  the  gold  ran  down  ofif  her  girdle. 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  185 

"That  is  too  much,"  she  said.  "I  cannot  bear  that.  The 
world  is  too  large!  If  I  were  only  back  upon  the  table  be- 
low the  mirror!  I  shall  never  be  happy  until  I  am  there 
again.  Now  I  have  followed  you  out  into  the  wide  world, 
you  may  accompany  me  back  again  if  you  really  love 
me." 

And  the  Chimney-Sweeper  spoke  sensibly  to  her — spoke 
ol  the  old  Chinaman  and  the  Billygoat-legs-Lieutenant- 
and-Major-General-War-Commander- Sergeant;  but  she 
sobbed  bitterly  and  kissed  her  little  Chimney-Sweeper,  so 
that  he  could  not  help  giving  way  to  her,  though  it  was 
foolish. 

And  so  with  much  labor  they  climbed  down  the  chimney 
again.  And  they  crept  through  the  pipe  and  the  fire-box. 
That  was  not  pleasant  at  all.  And  there  they  stood  in  the 
dark  stove;  there  they  listened  behind  the  door,  to  find  out 
what  was  going  on  in  the  room.  Then  it  was  quite  quiet: 
they  looked  in — ah!  there  lay  the  old  Chinaman  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  floor!  He  had  fallen  down  from  the  table  as  he 
was  pursuing  them, and  now  he  lay  broken  into  three  pieces; 
his  back  had  come  off  all  in  one  piece,  and  his  head  had 
rolled  into  a  corner.  The  Billygoat-legs-Lieutenant-and- 
Major-General-War-Commander-Sergeant  stood  where  he 
had  always  stood,  considering. 

"That  is  terrible!"  said  the  little  Shepherdess.  "The  old 
grandfather  has  fallen  to  pieces,  and  it  is  our  fault.  I  shall 
never  survive  it!"  and  then  she  wrung  her  little  hands. 

"He  can  be  mended!  he  can  be  mended!"  said  the  Chim- 
ney-sweeper. "Don't  be  so  violent.  If  they  glue  his  back 
together  and  give  him  a  good  rivet  in  his  neck,  he  will  be  as 
good  as  new,  and  may  say  many  a  disagreeable  thing  to  us 
yet." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  cried  she. 

So  they  climbed  back  upon  the  table  where  they  used  to 
stand. 

"You  see,  we  have  come  to  this,"  said  the  Chimney-Sweep- 
er: "we  might  have  saved  ourselves  all  the  trouble  we  have 
had." 

"If  the  old  grandfather  was  only  riveted!"  said  the  Shep- 
herdess.   "I  wonder  if  that  is  dear?" 

And  he  was  really  riveted.    The  family  had  his  back  ce- 


186  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

mented,  and  a  great  rivet  was  passed  through  his  neck;  he 
was  as  good  as  new,  only  he  could  no  longer  nod. 

"It  seems  you  have  become  proud  since  you  fell  to 
pieces,"  said  the  Billygoat-legs-Lieutenant-and-Major-Gen- 
eral-War-Commander-Sergeant.  "I  don't  think  you  have 
any  reason  to  give  yourself  such  airs.  Am  I  to  have  her, 
or  am  I  not?" 

And  the  Chimney-Sweeper  and  the  little  Shepherdess 
looked  at  the  old  Chinaman  most  piteously,  for  they  were 
afraid  he  might  nod.  But  he  could  not  do  that,  and  it 
was  irksome  to  him  to  tell  a  stranger  that  he  always  had 
a  rivet  in  his  neck.  And  so  the  porcelain  people  remained 
together,  and  loved  one  another  until  they  broke. 


THE  OLD  STREET  LAMP. 

Did  you  ever  hear  the  story  of  the  old  Street  Lamp?  It 
is  not  very  remarkable,  but  it  may  be  listened  to  for  once 
in  a  way. 

It  was  a  very  honest  old  Lamp,  that  had  done  its  work  for 
many,  many  years,  but  which  was  now  to  be  pensioned  off. 
It  hung  for  the  last  time  to  its  post,  and  gave  light  to  the 
street.  It  felt  as  an  old  dancer  at  the  theater,  who  is  danc- 
ing for  the  last  time,  and  who  to-morrow  will  sit  forgotten 
in  her  garret.  The  Lamp  was  in  great  fear  about  the  mor- 
row, for  it  knew  that  it  was  to  appear  in  the  council  house, 
and  to  be  inspected  by  the  mayor  and  the  council,  to  see  if  it 
were  fit  for  further  service  or  not. 

And  then  it  was  to  be  decided  whether  it  was  to  show  its 
light  in  future  for  the  inhabitants  of  some  suburb,  or  in  the 
country  in  some  manufactory;  perhaps  it  would  have  to  go 
at  once  into  an  iron  foundry  to  be  melted  down.  In  this  last 
case  anything  might  be  made  of  it;  but  the  question  whether 
it  would  remember,  in  its  new  state,  that  it  had  been  a  Street 
Lamp,  troubled  it  terribly.  Whatever  might  happen,  this 
much  was  certain,  that  it  would  be  separated  from  the 
watchman  and  his  wife,  whom  it  had  got  to  look  upon  as 
quite  belonging  to  its  family.  When  the  lamp  had  been  hung 
up  for  the  first  time  the  watchman  was  a  young,  sturdy 
man;  it  happened  to  be  the  very  evening  on  which  he  en- 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  187 

tered  on  his  office.  Yes,  that  was  certainly  a  long  time  ago, 
when  it  first  became  a  Lamp  and  he  a  watchman.  The 
wife  was  a  little  proud  in  those  days.  Only  in  the  evening, 
when  she  went  by,  she  deigned  to  glance  at  the  Lamp;  in 
the  daytime  never.  But  now,  in  these  later  years,  when  all 
three,  the  watchman,  his  wife,  and  the  Lamp,  had  grown 
old,  the  wife  had  also  tended  it^  cleaned  it,  and  provided  it 
with  oil.  The  two  people  were  thoroughly  honest;  never 
had  they  cheated  the  Lamp  O'f  a  single  drop  of  the  oil  pro- 
vided for  it. 

It  was  the  Lamp's  last  night  in  the  street,  and  to-morrow 
it  was  to  go  to  the  council  house — those  were  two  dark 
thoughts!  No  wonder  that  it  did  not  burn  brightly.  But 
many  other  thoughts  passed  through  its  brain.  On  what  a 
number  of  events  had  it  shone — how  much  it  had  seen !  Per- 
haps as  much  as  the  mayor  and  the  whole  council  had 
beheld.  But  it  did  not  give  utterance  to  these  thoughts, 
for  it  was  a  good,  honest  old  Lamp,  that  would  not  will- 
ingly hurt  anyone,  and  least  of  all  those  in  authority.  Many 
things  passed  through  its  mind,  and  at  times  its  light  flashed 
up.  In  such  moments  it  had  a  feeling  that  it,  too,  would  be 
remembered. 

"There  was  that  handsome  young  man — it  is  certainly  a 
long  while  ago — he  had  a  letter  on  pink  paper  with  a  gilt 
edge.  It  was  so  prettily  written,  as  if  by  a  lady's  hand. 
Twice  he  read  it,  and  kissed  it,  and  looked  up  to  me  with 
eyes  which  said  plainly,  T  am  the  happiest  of  men!'  Only 
he  and  I  know  what  was  written  in  this  first  letter  from  his 
true  love.  Yes,  I  remember  another  pair  of  eyes.  It  is  won- 
derful how  our  thoughts  fly  about!  There  was  a  funeral 
procession  in  the  street;  the  young,  beautiful  lady  lay  in 
the  decorated  hearse,  in  a  coffin  adorned  with  flowers  and 
wreaths;  and  a  number  of  torches  quite  darkened  my  light. 
The  people  stood  in  crowds  by  the  houses,  and  all  followed 
the  procession.  But  when  the  torches  had  passed  from  be- 
fore my  face,  and  I  looked  round,  a  single  person  stood 
leaning  against  my  post,  weeping.  I  shall  never  forget 
the  mournful  eyes  that  looked  up  to  me!" 

This  and  similar  thoughts  occupied  the  old  Street  Lan- 
tern, which  shone  to-night  for  the  last  time. 

The  sentry,  relieved  from  his  post,  at  least  knows  who  is 
to  succeed  him,  and  may  whisper  a  few  words  to  him;  but 


188  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

the  Lamp  did  not  know  its  successor;  and  yet  it  might  have 
given  a  few  useful  hints  with  respect  to  rain  and  fog,  and 
some  information  as  to  how  far  the  rays  of  the  moon  lit  up 
the  pavement,  from  what  direction  the  wind  usually  came, 
and  much  more  of  the  same  kind. 

On  the  bridge  of  the  gutter  stood  three  persons  who 
wished  to  introduce  themselves  to  the  Lamp,  for  they 
thought  the  Lamp  itself  could  appoint  its  successor.  The 
first  was  a  herring's  head,  that  could  gleam  with  light  in  the 
darkness.  He  thought  it  would  be  a  great  saving  of  oil 
if  they  put  him  upon  the  post.  Number  Two  was  a  piece 
of  rotten  wood,  which  also  glimmers  in  the  dark.  He  con- 
ceived himself  descended  from  an  old  stem,  once  the  pride 
of  the  forest.  The  third  person  was  a  glowworm.  Where 
this  one  had  come  from  the  Lamp  could  not  imagine;  but 
there  it  was,  and  it  could  give  light.  But  the  rotten  wood 
and  the  herring's  head  swore  by  all  that  was  good  that  it 
only  gave  light  at  certain  times,  and  could  not  be  brought 
into  competition  with  themselves. 

The  old  Lamp  declared  that  not  one  of  them  gave  suffi- 
cient light  to  fill  the  office  of  a  street  lamp;  but  not  one  of 
them  would  believe  this.  When  they  heard  that  the  Lamp 
had  not  the  office  to  give  away,  they  were  very  glad  of  it, 
and  declared  that  the  Lamp  was  too  decrepit  to  make  a 
good  choice. 

At  the  same  moment  the  Wind  came  careering  from  the 
corner  of  the  street,  and  blew  through  the  air-holes  of  the 
old  Lamp. 

"What's  this  I  hear?"  he  asked.  "Are  you  to  go  away 
to-morrow?  Do  I  see  you  for  the  last  time?  Then  I  must 
make  you  a  present  at  parting.  I  will  blow  into  your  brain- 
box  in  such  way  that  you  shall  be  able  in  future  not  only  to 
remember  everything  you  have  seen  and  heard,  but  that 
you  shall  have  such  light  within  3^ou  as  shall  enable  you  to 
see  all  that  is  read  of  or  spoken  of  you  in  your  presence." 

"Yes,  that  is  really  much,  very  much !"  said  the  old  Lamp. 
"I  thank  you  heartily.  I  only  hope  I  shall  not  be  melted 
down." 

"That  is  not  likely  to  happen  at  once,"  said  the  Wind. 
"Now  I  will  blow  a  memory  into  you :  if  you  receive  several 
presents  of  this  kind,  you  may  pass  your  old  days  very 
agreeably," 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  189 

"If  I  am  only  not  melted  down!"  said  the  Lamp  again. 
"Or  should  I  retain  my  memory  even  in  that  case?" 

"Be  sensible,  old  Lamp/'  said  the  Wind.  And  he  blew, 
and  at  that  moment  the  Moon  stepped  fortli  from  behind 
the  clouds. 

"What  will  you  give  the  old  Lamp?"  asked  the  Wind. 

"I'll  give  nothing,"  replied  the  Moon.  "I  am  on  the  wane, 
and  the  lamps  never  lighted  me;  but  on  the  contrary,  I've 
often  given  light  for  the  lamps." 

And  with  these  words  the  Moon  hid  herself  again  behind 
the  clouds,  to  be  safe  from  further  importunity. 

A  Drop  now  fell  upon  the  Lamp,  as  if  from  the  roof;  but 
the  Drop  explained  that  it  came  from  the  clouds,  and  was  a 
present — perhaps  the  best  present  possible. 

"I  shall  penetrate  you  so  completely  that  you  shall  re- 
ceive the  faculty,  if  you  wish  it,  to  turn  into  rust  in  one 
night,  and  to  crumble  into  dust." 

The  Lamp  considered  this  a  bad  present,  and  the  Wind 
thought  so  too. 

"Does  no  one  give  more?  Does  no  one  give  more?"  it 
blew  as  loud  as  it  could. 

Then  a  bright  shooting  star  fell  down,  forming  a  long, 
bright  stripe. 

"What  was  that?"  cried  the  Herring's  Head.  "Did  not  a 
star  fall?  I  really  think  it  went  into  the  Lamp!  Certainly 
if  such  high-born  personages  try  for  this  office,  we  may  say 
good-night  and  betake  ourselves  home." 

And  so  they  did,  all  three.  But  the  old  Lamp  shed  a  mar- 
velous strong  light  around. 

"That  was  a  glorious  present,"  it  said.  "The  bright  stars 
which  I  have  always  admired,  and  which  shine  as  I  could 
never  shine,  though  I  shone  with  all  my  might,  have  no- 
ticed me,  a  poor  old  Lamp,  and  have  sent  me  a  present,  by 
giving  me  the  faculty  that  all  I  remember  and  see  as  clearly 
as  if  it  stood  before  me,  shall  also  be  seen  by  all  whom  I 
love.  And  in  this  lies  the  true  pleasure;  for  joy  that  we  can 
not  share  with  others  is  only  half  enjoyed.'' 

"That  sentiment  does  honor  to  your  heart,"  said  the  Wind. 
"But  for  that  wax  hghts  are  necessary.  If  these  are  not  lit 
up  in  you,  your  rare  faculties  will  be  of  no  use  to  others. 
Look  you,  the  stars  did  not  think  of  that;    they  take  you 


190  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

and  every  other  light  for  wax.  But  I  will  go  down."  And 
he  went  down. 

"Good  heavens!  wax  lights!"  exclaimed  the  Lamp.  "I 
never  had  those  till  now,  nor  am  I  likely  to  get  them! — If 
I  am  only  not  melted  down!'' 

The  next  day — yes,  it  will  be  best  that  we  pass  over  the 
next  day.  The  next  evening  the  Lamp  was  resting  in  a 
grandfather's  chair.  And  guess  where!  In  the  watchman's 
dwelling.  He  had  begged  as  a  favor  of  the  mayor  and  coun- 
cil that  he  might  keep  the  Street  Lamp,  in  consideration  of 
his  long  and  faithful  service,  for  he  himself  had  put  up  and 
lit  the  lantern  for  the  first  time  on  the  first  day  of  entering  on 
his  duties  four  and  twenty  years  ago.  He  looked  upon  it  as 
his  child,  for  he  had  no  other.  And  the  Lamp  was  given  to 
him. 

Now  it  lay  in  the  great  armchair  by  the  warm  stove.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  Lamp  had  grow  bigger,  now  that  it  occu- 
pied the  chair  all  alone. 

The  old  people  sat  at  supper,  and  looked  kindly  at  the  old 
Lamp,  to  whom  they  would  willingly  have  granted  a  place 
at  their  table. 

Their  dwelling  was  certainly  only  a  cellar  two  yards  be- 
low the  footway,  and  one  had  to  cross  a  stone  passage  to  get 
into  the  room.  But  within  it  was  very  comfortable  and 
warm,  and  strips  of  list  had  been  nailed  to  the  door.  Every- 
thing looked  clean  and  neat,  and  there  were  curtains  round 
the  bed  and  the  little  windows.  On  the  window-sill  stood 
two  curious  flower-pots,  which  sailor  Christian  had  brought 
home  from  the  East,  or  West  Indies.  They  were  only  of 
clay,  and  represented  two  elephants.  The  backs  of  these 
creatures  had  been  cut  off;  and  instead  of  them  bloomed 
from  within  the  earth  with  which  one  elephant  was  filled, 
some  very  excellent  chives,  and  that  was  the  kitchen-gar- 
den; out  of  the  other  grew  a  great  geranium,  and  that  was 
the  flower-garden.  On  the  wall  hung  a  great  colored  print 
representing  the  Congress  of  Vienna.  There  you  had  all 
the  Kings  and  Emperors  at  once.  A  clock  with  heavy 
weights  went  "tick!  tick!"  and  in  fact  it  always  went  too 
fast:  but  the  old  people  declared  this  was  far  better  than  if 
it  went  too  slow.  They  ate  their  supper,  and  the  Street 
Lamp  lay,  as  I  have  said,  in  the  armchair  close  beside  the 
Stove.    It  seemed  to  the  Lamp  as  if  the  whole  world  had 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  191 

been  turned  round.  But  when  the  old  watchman  looked  at 
it,  and  spoke  of  all  that  they  two  had  gone  through  in  rain 
and  in  fog,  in  the  bright  short  nights  of  summer  and  in  the 
long  winter  nights,  when  the  snow  beat  down,  and  one 
longed  to  be  at  home  in  the  cellar,  then  the  old  Lamp  found 
its  wits  again.  It  saw  everything  as  clearly  as  if  it  was  hap- 
pening then;  yes,  the  Wind  has  kindled  a  capital  light  for  it. 

The  old  people  were  very  active  and  industrious;  not  a 
single  hour  was  wasted  in  idleness.  On  Sunday  afternoon 
some  book  or  other  was  brought  out;  generally  a  book  of 
travels.  And  the  old  man  read  aloud  about  Africa,  about 
the  great  woods,  with  elephants  running  about  wild;  and 
the  woman  listened  intently,  and  looked  furtively  at  the  clay 
elephants  which  served  for  flower-pots. 

"I  can  almost  imagine  it  to  myself!"  said  she. 

And  the  Lamp  wished  particularly  that  a  wax  candle  had 
been  there,  and  could  be  lighted  up  in  it;  for  then  the  old 
woman  would  be  able  to  see  everything  to  the  smallest  de- 
tail, just  as  the  Lamp  saw  it — ^the  tall  trees  with  great 
branches  all  entwined,  the  naked  black  men  on  horseback, 
and  whole  droves  of  elephants  crashing  through  the  reeds 
with  their  broad  clumsy  feet. 

"Of  what  use  are  all  my  faculties  if  I  can't  obtain  a  wax 
light?"  sighed  the  Lamp.  "They  have  only  oil  and  tallow 
candles,  and  that's  not  enough." 

One  day  a  great  number  of  wax  candle-ends  came  down 
into  the  cellar:  the  larger  pieces  were  burned,  and  the 
smaller  ones  the  old  woman  used  for  waxing  her  thread. 
So  there  were  wax  candles  enough;  but  no  one  thought  of 
putting  a  little  piece  into  the  Lamp. 

"Here  I  stand  with  my  rare  faculties!"  thought  the 
Lamp.  "I  carry  everything  with  me,  and  cannot  let  them 
partake  of  it ;  they  don't  know  that  I  am  able  to  cover  these 
white  walls  with  the  most  gorgeous  tapestry,  to  change 
them  into  noble  forests,  and  all  that  they  can  possibly 
wish." 

The  Lamp,  however,  was  kept  neat  and  clean,  and  stood 
all  shining  in  a  corner,  where  it  caught  the  eyes  of  all. 
Strangers  considered  it  a  bit  of  old  rubbish;  but  the  old  peo- 
ple did  not  care  for  that;  they  loved  the  Lamp. 

One  day — it  was  the  old  watchman's  birthday — the  old 


-#^^ 


192  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES, 

woman  approached  the  Lantern,  smihng  to  herself,  and 
said: 

"I'll  make  an  illumination  to-day  in  honor  of  my  old 
man!" 

And  the  Lamp  rattled  its  metal  cover,  for  it  thought. 
"Well,  at  last  there  will  be  a  light  within  me."  But  only  oil 
was  produced,  and  no  wax  light  appeared.  The  Lamp 
burned  throughout  the  whole  evening,  but  nov>?  understood, 
only  too  well,  that  the  gift  of  the  stars  v^^ould  be  a  hidden 
treasure  for  all  its  life.  Then  it  had  a  dream:  for  one  pos- 
sessing its  rare  faculties  to  dream  was  not  difficult.  It  seemed 
as  if  the  old  people  were  dead,  and  itself  had  been  taken  to 
the  ironfoundry  to  be  melted  down.  It  felt  as  m.uch  alarmed 
as  on  that  day  when  it  was  to  appear  in  the  council-house 
to  be  inspected  by  the  mayor  and  council.  But  though  the 
power  had  been  given  to  it  to  fall  into  rust  and  dust  at  will, 
it  did  not  use  this  power.  It  was  put  in  the  furnace,  and 
turned  into  an  iron  candlestick,  as  fair  a  candlestick  as  you 
would  desire — one  on  which  wax  lights  were  to  be  burned. 
It  had  received  the  form  of  an  angel  holding  a  great  nose- 
gay; and  the  vv^ax  light  was  to  be  placed  in  the  miiddle  of  the 
nosegay. 

The  candlestick  had  a  place  assigned  to  it  on  a  green 
writing  table.  The  room  was  very  comfortable;  many  books 
stood  round  about  the  walls,  which  were  hung  with  beauti- 
ful pictures;  it  belonged  to  a  poet.  Everything  that  he 
wrote  or  composed  showed  itself  round  about  him.  Nature 
appears  sometimes  in  thick  dark  forescs,  sometimes  in  beau- 
tiful meadows,  where  the  storks  strutted  about,  sometimes 
again  in  a  ship  sailing  on  the  foaming  ocean,  or  in  the  blue 
sky  with  all  its  stars. 

"What  faculties  lie  hidden  in  me!"  said  the  old  Lamp, 
when  it  awoke.  'T  could  almost  wish  to  be  melted  down! 
But  no!  that  cannot  be  so  long  as  the  old  people  live.  They 
love  me  for  myself;  they  have  cleaned  me  and  brought  me 
oil.  I  am  as  well  off  now  as  the  whole  Congress,  in  look- 
ing at  which  they  also  take  pleasure." 

And  from  that  time  it  enjoyed  more  inward  peace;  and 
the  honest  old  Street  Lamp  had  well  deserved  to  enjoy  it. 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES..  193 


THE  LOVERS. 

A  Whip-Top  and  a  little  Ball  were  together  in  a  drawer 
among  some  other  toys;  and  the  Top  said  to  the  Ball, 
"Shall  we  not  be  bridegroom  and  bride,  as  we  live  together 
in  the  same  box?" 

But  the  Ball,  which  had  a  coat  of  morocco  leather,  and 
was  just  as  conceited  as  any  fine  lady,  would  make  no  an- 
swer to  such  a  proposal. 

Next  day  the  little  boy  came  to  whom  the  toys  belonged; 
he  painted  the  Top  red  and  yellow,  and  hammered  a  brass 
nail  into  it;  and  it  looked  splendid  when  the  Top  turned 
round ! 

"Look  at  me!"  he  cried  to  the  Ball.  "What  do  you  say 
now?  Shall  v^^e  not  be  engaged  to  each  other?  We  suit  one 
another  so  well!  You  jump  and  I  dance!  No  one  could 
be  happier  than  we  two  should  be." 

"Indeed!  Do  you  think  so?"  replied  the  little  Ball.  "Per- 
haps you  do  not  know  my  papa  and  mamma  were  morocco 
slippers,  and  that  I  have  a  Spanish  cork  inside  me?" 

"Yes,  but  I  am  made  of  mahogany,"  said  the  Top;  "and 
the  mayor  himself  turned  me.  He  has  a  turning  lathe  of  his 
own,  ana  it  amuses  him  greatly." 

"Can  I  depend  upon  that?"  asked  the  little  Ball. 

"May  I  never  be  whipped  again  if  it  is  not  true!"  replied 
the  Top. 

"You  can  speak  well  for  yourself,"  observed  the  Ball,  "but 
I  cannot  grant  your  request.  I  am  as  good  as  engaged  to 
a  swallow;  every  time  I  leap  up  into  the  air  she  puts  her 
head  out  of  her  nest  and  says,  'Will  you?'  And  now  I  have 
silently  said  'Yes,'  and  that  is  as  good  as  half  engaged;  but 
I  prom.ise  I  will  never  forget  you." 

"Yes,  that  will  be  much  good!"  said  the  Top. 

And  they  spoke  no  more  to  each  other. 

The  next  day  the  Ball  was  taken  out  by  the  boy.  The 
Top  saw  how  it  flew  high  into  the  air,  like  a  bird ;  at  last  one 
could  no  longer  see  it.  Each  time  it  came  back  again,  but 
gave  a  high  leap  when  it  touched  the  earth,  and  that  was 
done  either  from  its  longing  to  mount  up  again,  or  because 
13 


194  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

it  had  a  Spanish  cork  in  its  body.  But  the  ninth  time  the 
httle  Ball  remained  absent,  and  did  not  come  back  again; 
and  the  boy  sought  and  sought,  but  it  was  gone. 

"I  know  very  well  where  it  is!"  sighed  the  Top.  "It  is  in 
the  swallow's  nest,  and  has  married  the  swallow." 

The  more  the  Top  thought  of  this,  the  more  it  longed  for 
the  Ball.  Just  because  it  could  not  get  the  Ball,  its  love  in- 
creased; and  the  fact  that  the  Ball  had  chosen  another 
formed  a  peculiar  feature  in  the  case.  So  the  Top  danced 
round  and  hummed,  but  always  thought  of  the  little  Ball, 
which  became  more  and  more  beautiful  in  his  fancy.  Thus 
several  years  went  by,  and  now  it  was  an  old  love. 

And  the  Top  was  no  longer  young!  But  one  day  he  was 
gilt  all  over;  never  had  he  looked  so  handsome;  he  was  now 
a  golden  Top,  and  sprang  till  he  hummed  again.  Yes,  that 
was  something  worth  seeing!  But  all  at  once  he  sprang  up 
too  high,  and — he  was  gone. 

They  looked  and  looked,  even  in  the  cellar^  but  he  was 
not  to  be  found.    Where  could  he  be? 

He  had  jumped  into  the  dustbox,  where  all  kinds  of 
things  were  lying:  cabbage  stalks,  sweepings,  and  dust 
that  had  fallen  down  from  the  roof. 

"Here's  a  nice  place  to  lie  in!  The  gilding  will  soon  leave 
me  here.    Among  what  a  rabble  have  I  alighted." 

And  then  he  looked  sideways  at  a  long,  leafless  cabbage- 
stump,  and  at  a  curious  round  thing  that  looked  like  an  old 
apple;  but  it  was  not  an  apple — it  was  an  old  Ball,  which 
had  lain  for  years  in  the  gutter  on  the  roof,  and  was  quite 
saturated  with  water. 

"Thank  goodness,  here  comes  one  of  us,  with  whom  one 
can  talk!"  said  the  little  Ball,  and  looked  at  the  gilt  Top. 
"I  am  really  morocco,  worked  by  maiden's  hands,  and  have 
a  Spanish  cork  Avithin  me;  but  no  one  would  think  it,  to 
look  at  me.  I  was  very  nearly  marrying  a  swallow,  but  I  fell 
into  the  gutter  on  the  roof,  and  have  lain  there  full  five 
years,  and  become  quite  wet  through.  You  may  believe  me; 
that's  a  long  time  for  a  young  girl. 

But  the  Top  said  nothing.  He  thought  of  his  old  love; 
and  the  more  he  heard,  the  clearer  it  became  to  him  that 
this  was  she. 

Then  came  the  servant  girl,  and  wanted  to  turn  out  the 

dustbox. 

<4 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  195 

"Aha!  there's  a  gilt  Top!"  she  cried. 

And  so  the  Top  was  brought  again  to  notice  and  honor, 
but  nothing  was  heard  of  the  Httle  Ball.  And  the  Top  spoke 
no  more  of  his  old  love;  for  that  dies  away  when  the  be- 
loved object  has  lain  for  five  years  in  a  roof  gutter  and  got 
wet  through;  yes,  one  does  not  know  her  again  when  one 
meets  her  in  the  dustbox. 


LITTLE  TUK. 


Yes,  that  was  little  Tuk.  His  name  was  not  really  Tuk; 
but  when  he  could  not  speak  plainly,  he  used  to  call  himself 
so.  It  was  to  mean  "Charley,"  and  it  does  very  well  if  one 
only  knows  it.  Now,  he  was  to  take  care  of  his  little  sister 
Gustava,  who  was  much  smaller  that  he,  and  at  the  same 
time  he  was  to  learn  his  lesson;  but  these  two  things  would 
not  suit  well  together.  The  poor  boy  sat  there  with  his  lit- 
tle sister  on  his  lap,  and  sang  her  all  kinds  of  songs  that  he 
knew,  and  every  now  and  then  he  gave  a  glance  at  the 
geography  book  that  lay  open  before  him:  by  to-morrow 
morning  he  was  to  know  all  the  towns  in  Zealand  by  heart, 
and  to  know  everything  about  them  that  one  can  well  know. 

Now  his  mother  came  home,  for  she  had  been  out,  and 
took  little  Gustava  in  her  arms.  Tuk  ran  quickly  to  the 
window,  and  read  so  zealously  that  he  had  almost  read  his 
eyes  out,  for  it  became  darker  and  darker;  but  his  mother 
had  no  money  to  buy  candles. 

"There  goes  the  old  washerwoman  out  of  the  lane  yon- 
der," said  his  mother,  as  she  looked  out  of  the  window. 
"The  poor  woman  can  hardly  drag  herself  along,  and  now 
she  has  to  carry  the  pail  of  water  from  the  well.  Be  a  good 
boy,  Tuk,  and  run  across,  and  help  the  old  woman.    Won't 


you 


■?" 


And  Tuk  ran  across  quickly,  and  helped  her;  but  when 
he  came  back  into  the  room  it  had  become  quite  dark.  There 
was  nothing  said  about  a  candle,  and  now  he  had  to  go  to 
bed,  and  his  bed  was  an  old  settle.  There  he  lay,  and 
thought  of  his  geography  lesson,  and  of  Zealand,  and  of  all 
the  master  had  said.  He  ought  certainly  to  have  read  it 
again,  but  he  could  not  do  that.    So  he  put  the  geography 


196  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

book  under  his  pillow^  because  he  had  heard  that  this  is  a 
very  good  way  to  learn  one's  lesson;  but  one  cannot  depend 
upon  it.  There  he  lay,  and  thought  and  thought;  and  all 
at  once  he  fancied  someone  kissed  him  upon  his  eyes  and 
mouth.  He  slept,  and  yet  he  did  not  sleep;  it  was  just  as  if 
the  old  washerwoman  were  looking  at  him  with  her  kind 
eyes,  and  saying: 

"It  would  be  a  great  pity  if  you  did  not  know  your  les- 
son to-morrow.  You  have  helped  me,  therefore  now  I  will 
help  you ;  and  Providence  will  help  us  both.'' 

a\ll  at  once  the  book  began  to  crawl,  crawl  about  under 
Tuk's  pillow. 

"Kikeliki!  Put!  put!"  It  was  a  Hen  that  came  crawling 
up,  and  she  came  from  Kjoge.  "I'm  a  Kjoge  hen!"  *she 
said  very  proudly. 

And  then  she  told  him  how  many  inhabitants  were  in  the 
town,  and  about  the  battle  that  had  been  fought  there, 
though  that  was  really  hardly  worth  mentioning. 

"Kribli,  kribli,  plumps!"  Something  fell  down:  it  was  a 
wooden  bird,  the  parrot  from  the  shooting  match  at  Pras- 
toe.  He  said  that  there  were  just  as  many  inhabitants  yon- 
der as  he  had  nails  in  his  body;  and  he  was  very  proud. 
"Thorwaldsen  lived  close  to  me.f  Plumps !  Plere  I  lie  very 
comfortably." 

But  now  little  Tuk  no  longer  lay  in  bed;  on  a  sudden  he 
was  on  horseback.  Gallop,  gallop!  hop,  hop!  and  so  he 
went  on.  A  splendidly  attired  knight,  with  flowing  plume, 
held  him  on  the  front  of  the  saddle,  and  so  they  went  rid- 
ing on  through  the  wood  of  the  old  town  of  Wordinborg, 
and  that  was  a  great  and  very  busy  town.  On  the  King's 
castle  rose  high  towers,  and  the  radiance  of  lights  streamed 
from  every  window;  within  was  song  and  dancing,  and  King 
Waldemar  and  the  young,  gayly  dressed  maids  of  honor 
danced  together.  Now  the  morning  came  on,  and  so  soon 
as  the  sun  appeared  the  whole  city  and  the  King's  castle 

*  Kjoge,  a  little  town  on  K.ioge  Bay.  Lifting  up  children  bs' 
putting  the  two  hsnds  to  the  side  of  their  heads  is  called  "show- 
ing them  Kjoge  hens." 

t  Prastoe,  a  still  smaller  town.  A  few  hundred  paces  from  it 
lies  the  estate  of  Nysoe,  where  Thorwaldsen  usually  lived  when 
he  was  in  Denmark,  and  where  he  executed  manj''  immortal 
works. 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  197 

suddenly  sank  down,  one  tower  falling  after  another;  and 
at  last  only  one  remained  standing  on  the  hill  where  the  cas- 
tle had  formerly  been;*  and  the  town  was  very  small  and 
poor,  and  the  schoolboys  came  with  their  books  under  their 
arms,  and  said,  "Two  thousand  inhabitants,"  but  that  was 
not  true,  for  the  town  had  not  so  many. 

And  little  Tuk  lay  in  his  bed,  as  if  he  dreamed,  and  yet 
as  if  he  did  not  dream;  but  someone  stood  close  beside 
him. 

"Little  Tuk!  little  Tuk!"  said  the  voice.  It  was  a  sea- 
man, quite  a  little  personage,  as  small  as  if  he  had  been  a 
cadet;  but  he  was  not  a  cadet.  "I'm  to  bring  you  a  oreeting 
from  Corsor;  f  that  is  a  town  which  is  just  in  good  progress 
— a  lively  town  that  has  steamers  and  mail  coaches.  In 
times  past  they  used  always  to  call  it  ugly,  but  that  is  now 
no  longer  true. 

"  T  lie  by  the  seashore,'  said  Corsor.  'I  have  high  roads 
and  pleasure  gardens;  and  I  gave  birth  to  a  poet  who  was 
witty  and  entertaining,  and  that  cannot  be  said  of  all  of 
them.  I  wanted  once  to  fit  out  a  ship  that  was  to  sail  round 
the  world ;  but  I  did  not  do  that,  though  I  might  have  done 
it.  But  I  smell  deliciously,  for  close  to  my  gates  the  loveliest 
roses  bloom.' " 

Little  Tuk  looked,  and  it  seemed  red  and  green  before  his 
eyes;  but  when  the  confusion  of  color  had  a  little  passed  by, 
it  changed  all  at  once  into  a  wooden  declivity  close  by  a  bay, 
and  high  above  it  stood  a  glorious  old  church  with  two  high 
pointed  towers.  Out  of  this  hill  flowed  springs  of  water  in 
thick  columns,  so  that  there  was  a  continual  splashing,  and 
close  by  sat  an  old  King  with  a  golden  crown  upon  his  white 
head :  that  was  King  Hroar  of  the  springs,  close  by  the  town 
of  Roeskilde,  as  it  is  now  called.  And  up  the  hill  into  the 
old  church  went  all  the  Kings  and  Queens  of  Denmark, 
hand  in  hand,  all  with  golden  crowns;  and  the  organ  played, 
and  the  springs  plashed.    Little  Tuk  saw  all  and  heard  all. 

*  Wordinborg,  in  King  Waldemar's  time  a  considerable  town, 
now  a  place  of  no  importance.  Only  a  lonely  tower  and  a  few  re- 
mains of  a  wall  show  where  the  castle  once  stood. 

t  Corsor,  on  the  Great  Belt,  used  to  be  called  the  most  tire- 
some of  Danish  towns  before  the  establishment  of  steamers;  for 
in  those  days  travelers  had  often  to  wait  there  for  a  favorable 
wind.    The  poet  Baggesen  was  born  there. 


198  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"Don't  forget  the  towns,"t  said  King  Hroar. 

At  once  everything  had  vanished,  and  whither?  It  seemed 
to  him  hke  turning  a  leaf  in  a  book.  And  novv^  stood  there 
an  old  peasant  woman,  who  came  from  Soroe,  where  grass 
grows  in  the  market-place;  she  had  an  apron  of  gray  cotton 
thrown  over  her  head  and  shoulders,  and  the  apron  was 
very  wet;   it  must  have  been  raining. 

"Yes,  that  it  has!"  said  she;  and  she  knew  many  pretty 
things  out  of  Holberg's  plays,  and  about  Waldemar  and 
Absalom.  But  all  at  once  she  cowered  down,  and  wagged 
her  head  as  if  she  were  about  to  spring.  "Koax!"  said  she, 
"it  is  wet!  it  is  wet!  There  is  a  very  agreeable  death- 
silence  in  Soroe!"*  Now  she  changed  all  at  once  into  a 
frog — "Koax!" — and  then  she  became  an  old  woman  again. 
"One  must  dress  according  to  the  weather,"  she  said.  "It 
is  wet!  it  is  wet!  My  town  is  just  like  a  bottle:  one  goes  in 
at  the  cork,  and  must  come  out  again  at  the  rock.  In  old 
times  I  had  capital  fish,  and  now  I've  fresh  red  cheeked  boys 
in  the  bottom  of  the  bottle,  and  they  learn  wisdom — He- 
brew, Greek. — Koax!" 

That  sounded  just  like  the  croak  of  the  frogs,  or  the  sound 
of  someone  marching  across  the  moor  in  great  boots;  al- 
ways the  same  note,  so  monotonous  and  wearisome  that  lit- 
tle Tuk  fairly  fell  asleep,  and  that  could  not  hurt  him  at 
all. 

But  even  in  this  sleep  came  a  dream,  or  whatever  it  was. 
His  little  sister  Gustava  with  the  blue  eyes  and  the  fair 
curly  hair  was  all  at  once  a  tall  slender  maiden,  and  with- 
out having  wings  she  could  fly;  and  now  they  flew  over 
Zealand,  over  the  green  forests  and  the  blue  lakes. 

"Do  you  hear  the  cock  crow,  little  Tuk?  Kikeliki!  The 
fowls  are  flying  up  out  of  Kjoge!  You  shall  have  a  poultry 

$  Roeskilde  (Roesquelle,  Rose-spring,  falsely  called  Rothschild), 
once  the  capital  of  Denmark.  The  town  took  its  name  from 
King  Hroar  and  from  the  many  springs  in  the  vicinitj'.  In  the 
beautiful  cathedral  most  of  the  Kings  and  Queens  of  Denmark 
are  buried.     In  Roeskilde  the  Danish  Estates  used  to  assemble. 

*  Soroe,  a  very  quiet  little  town,  in  a  fine  situation,  surrounded 
by  forests  and  lakes.  Holberg,  the  Moliere  of  Denmark,  here 
founded  a  noble  academy.  The  poets  Hanch  and  Ingman  were 
professors  here. 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  199 

yard — a  great,  great  poultry  yard!  You  shall  not  suffer 
hunger  nor  need;  and  you  shall  hit  the  bu'd,  as  the  saying 
is;  you  shall  become  a  rich  and  happy  man.  Your  house 
shall  rise  up  like  King  Waldemar's  tower,  and  shah  be 
richly  adorned  with  marble  statues,  like  those  of  Prastoe. 
You  understand  me  well.  Your  name  shall  travel  with  fame 
round  the  whole  world,  like  the  ship  that  was  to  sail  from 
Corsor." 

"Don't  forget  the  town,"  said  King  Hroar.  "You  will 
speak  well  and  sensibly,  little  Tuk;  and  when  at  last  you 
descend  to  your  grave,  you  shall  sleep  peacefully " 

"As  if  I  lay  in  Soroe,"  said  Tuk,  and  he  awoke.  It  was 
bright  morning,  and  he  could  not  remember  his  dream. 
But  that  was  not  necessary,  for  one  must  not  know  what  is 
to  happen. 

Now  he  sprang  quickly  out  of  his  bed,  and  read  his  book, 
and  all  at  once  he  knew  his  whole  lesson.  The  old  washer- 
woman, too,  put  her  head  in  at  the  door,  nodded  to  him  in 
a  friendly  way,  and  said : 

"Thank  you,  you  good  child,  for  your  help.  May  your 
beautiful  dreams  come  true." 

Little  Tuk  did  not  know  all  what  he  had  dreamed,  but 
there  was  One  above  who  knew  it. 


THE  FLAX. 


The  Flax  stood  in  blossom;  it  had  pretty  little  blue 
flowers,  delicate  as  a  moth's  wings,  and  even  more  delicate. 
The  sun  shone  on  the  Flax,  and  the  rain-clouds  moistened 
it,  and  this  was  just  as  good  for  it  as  it  is  for  little  children 
when  they  are  washed,  and  afterward  get  a  kiss  from  their 
mother;  they  become  much  prettier,  and  so  did  the  Flax. 

"The  people  say  that  I  stand  uncommonly  well,"  said  the 
Flax,  "and  that  I'm  fine  and  long,  and  shall  make  a  capital 
piece  of  linen.  How  happy  I  am!  I'm  certainly  the  happiest 
of  beings.  How  well  I  am  ofif!  And  I  may  come  to  some- 
thing! How  the  sunshine  gladdens,  and  the  rain  tastes  good 
and  refreshes  me!    I'm  the  happiest  of  beings." 

"Yes,  yes,  yes !"  said  the  Hedge-stake,    "You  don't  know 


200  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

the  world,  but  we  do,  for  we  have  knots  in  us;"  and  then  it 
creaked  out  mournfully: 

"Snip-snap--snurre, 
Bassellurre! 
The  song  is  done." 

"No,  it  is  not  done,"  said  the  Flax.  "To-morrow  the  sun 
will  shine,  or  the  rain  will  refresh  us.  I  feel  that  I'm  grow- 
ing, I  feel  that  I'm  in  blossom!  I'm  the  happiest  of  be- 
ings." 

But  one  day  the  people  came  and  took  the  Flax  by  the 
head  and  pulled  it  up  by  the  root.  That  hurt;  and  it  was 
laid  in  water  as  if  they  were  going  to  drown  it,  and  then  put 
on  the  fire  as  if  it  was  going  to  be  roasted.  It  was  quite 
fearful ! 

"One  can't  always  have  good  times,''  said  the  Flax.  "One 
must  make  one's  own  experiences^  and  so  one  gets  to  know 
something." 

Bad  times  certainly  came.  The  Flax  was  moistened  and 
roasted,  and  broken  and  hackled.  Yes,  it  did  not  even 
know  what  the  operations  were  called  that  they  did  with  it. 
It  was  put  on  the  spinning-wheel — whirr!  whirr!  whirr — it 
was  not  possible  to  collect  one's  thoughts. 

"I  have  been  uncommonly  happy!"  it  thought  in  all  its 
pain.  "One  must  be  content  with  the  good  one  has  en- 
joyed! Contented!  contented!  Oh!"  And  it  continued  to 
say  that  when  it  was  put  into  the  loom,  and  until  it  became 
a  large  beautiful  piece  of  linen.  All  the  Flax,  to  the  last 
stalk,  was  used  in  making  one  piece. 

"But  this  is  quite  remarkable!  I  should  never  have  be- 
lieved it!  How  favorable  fortune  is  to  me!  The  Hedge- 
stake  was  well  informed,  truly,  with  it: 

"(Snip-snap-snurre, 
Bassellurre! 

The  song  is  not  done  by  any  means.  Now  it's  beginning  in 
earnest.  That's  quite  remarkable!  If  I've  suflfered  some- 
thing, I've  been  made  into  something!  I'm  the  happiest 
of  all!  How  strong  and  fine  I  am,  and  how  white  and  long! 
That's  something  dififerent  from  being  a  mere  plant:  even 
if  one  b?ars  flowers,  one  is  not  attended  to,  and  only  gets 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  201 

watered  when  it  rains.  Now  I'm  attended  to  and  cherished: 
the  maid  turns  me  over  every  morning,  and  I  get  a  shower 
bath  from  the  watering-pot  every  evening.  Yes,  the  clergy- 
man's wife  has  even  made  a  speech  about  me,  and  says  i'm 
the  best  piece  in  the  whole  parish.    I  cannot  be  happier!" 

Now  the  linen  was  taken  into  the  house,  and  put  under 
the  scissors:  how  they  cut  and  tore  it  and  then  pricked  it 
with  needles!  That  was  not  pleasant;  but  twelve  pieces 
of  body  linen,  of  a  kind  not  often  mentioned  by  name,  but 
indispensable  to  all  people,  were  made  of  it — a  whole  dozen! 

Just  look!  Now  something  has  really  been  made  of  me! 
So  that  was  my  destiny.  That's  a  real  blessing.  Now  I 
shall  be  of  some  use  in  the  world,  and  that's  right,  that's 
a  true  pleasure!  We've  been  made  into  twelve  things,  but 
yet  we're  all  one  and  the  same;  we're  just  a  dozen:  how  re- 
markably charming  that  is!" 

Years  rolled  on,  and  now  they  would  hold  together  no 
longer. 

'Tt  must  be  over  one  day,"  said  each  piece.  'T  would 
gladly  have  held  together  a  little  longer,  but  one  must  not 
expect  impossibilities." 

They  were  now  torn  into  pieces  and  fragments.  They 
thought  it  was  all  over  now,  for  they  were  hacked  to  shreds, 
and  softened  and  boiled;  yes,  they  themselves  did  not  know 
all  that  was  done  to  them;  and  then  they  became  beautiful 
white  Paper. 

"Now,  that  is  a  surprise,  and  a  glorious  surprise!"  said 
the  Paper.  "Now,  I'm  finer  than  before,  and  I  shall  be  writ- 
ten on:    that  is  remarkable  good  fortune." 

And  really  the  most  beautiful  stories  and  verses  were 
written  upon  it,  and  only  once  there  came  a  blot;  that  was 
certainly  remarkable  good  fortune.  And  the  people  heard 
what  was  upon  it;  it  was  sensible  and  good,  and  made  peo- 
ple much  more  sensible  and  better:  there  was  a  great  bless- 
ing in  the  words  that  were  on  this  Paper. 

"That  is  more  than  I  ever  imagined  when  I  was  a  little 
blue  flower  in  the  fields.  How  could  I  fancy  that  I  should 
ever  spread  joy  and  knowledge  among  men?  I  can't  yet 
understand  it  myself,  but  it  is  really  so.  I  have  done  noth- 
ing but  what  I  was  obliged  with  my  weak  pov/ers  to  do  for 
my  own  preservation,  and  yet  I  have  been  promoted  from 
one  joy  and  honor  to  another.    Each  time  when  I  think  'the 


202  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

song  is  done,'  it  begins  again  in  a  higher  and  better  way. 
Now  I  shall  certainly  be  sent  about  to  journey  through  the 
world,  so  that  all  people  may  read  me.  That  cannot  be  oth- 
erwise; it's  the  only  probable  thing.  I've  splendid  thoughts, 
as  many  as  I  had  pretty  flowers  in  the  old  times.  I'm  the 
happiest  of  beings." 

But  the  Paper  was  not  sent  on  its  travels ;  it  was  sent  to 
the  printer,  and  everything  that  was  written  upon  it  was  set 
up  in  type  for  a  book,  or  rather  for  many  hundreds  of  books, 
for  in  this  way  a  very  far  greater  number  could  derive  pleas- 
ure and  profit  from  the  book  than  if  the  one  paper  on  which 
it  was  written  had  run  about  the  world,  to  be  worn  out  be- 
fore it  had  got  half-way. 

"Yes,  that  is  certainly  the  wisest  way,"  thought  the 
Written  Paper.  "I  really  did  not  think  of  that.  I  shall  stay 
at  home,  and  be  held  in  honor,  just  like  an  old  grandfather; 
and  I  am  really  the  grandfather  of  all  these  books.  Now 
something  can  be  effected:  I  could  not  have  wandered 
about  thus.  He  who  wrote  all  this  looked  at  me;  every'  word 
flowed  from  his  pen  right  into  me.  I  am  the  happiest  of 
all." 

Then  the  Paper  was  tied  together  in  a  bundle,  and  thrown 
into  a  tub  that  stood  in  the  wash-house. 

"It's  good  resting  after  work,"  said  the  Paper.  "It  is  very 
right  that  one  should  collect  one's  thoughts.  Now  I'm  able 
for  the  first  time  to  think  of  what  is  in  me,  and  to  know  one- 
self is  true  progress.  What  will  be  done  with  me  now?  At 
any  rate  I  shall  go  forward  again;  I'm  always  going  for- 
ward.   I've  found  that  out." 

Now,  one  day  all  the  Paper  was  taken  out  and  laid  by  on 
the  hearth ;  it  was  to  be  burned,  for  it  might  not  be  sold  to 
hucksters  to  be  used  for  covering  for  butter  and  sugar,  they 
said.  And  all  the  children  in  the  house  stood  round  about, 
for  they  wanted  to  see  the  Paper  burn,  that  flamed  up  so 
prettily,  and  afterward  one  could  see  many  red  sparks  among 
the  ashes,  careering  here  and  there.  One  after  another  faded 
out  quick  as  the  wind,  and  that  they  called  "seeing  the  chil- 
dren come  out  of  school,"  and  the  last  spark  was  the  school- 
master; one  of  them  thought  he  had  already  gone,  but  at 
the  next  moment  there  came  another  spark.  "There  goes 
the  schoolmaster!''  they  said.  Yes,  they  all  knew  about  it; 
they  should  have  known  who  it  was  that  went  there:   we 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY   TALES.  203 

shall  get  to  know  it,  but  they  did  not.  All  the  old  Paper, 
the  whole  bundle,  was  laid  upon  the  fire,  and  it  was  soon 
alight.  "Ugh!"  it  said,  and  burst  out  into  bright  flame. 
Ugh !  that  was  not  very  agreeable,  but  when  the  whole  was 
wrapped  in  bright  flames  these  mounted  up  higher  than  the 
Flax  had  ever  been  able  to  lift  its  little  blue  flowers,  and 
glittered  as  the  white  Linen  had  never  been  able  to  glitter. 
AH  the  written  letters  turned  for  a  moment  quite  red,  and 
all  the  words  and  thoughts  turned  to  flame. 

"Now  I'm  mounting  straight  up  to  the  sun,"  said  a  voice 
in  the  flame;  and  it  was  as  if  a  thousand  voices  said  this  in 
unison;  and  the  flames  mounted  up  through  the  chimney 
and  out  at  the  top,  and,  more  delicate  than  the  flames,  in- 
visible to  human  eyes,  little  tiny  beings  floated  there,  as 
many  as  there  had  been  blossoms  on  the  Flax.  They  were 
lighter  even  than  the  flames  from  which  they  were  born; 
and  when  the  flame  was  extinguished,  and  nothing  remained 
of  the  Paper  but  black  ashes,  they  danced  over  it  once  more, 
and  where  they  touched  the  black  mass  the  little  red  sparks 
appeared.  The  children  came  out  of  school,  and  the  school- 
master was  the  last  of  all.  That  was  fun !  and  the  children 
sang  over  the  dead  ashes: 

"iSnip-snap-snurre, 
Bassellurre! 
The  song  is  done." 

But  the  little  invisible  beings  all  said: 

"The  song  is  never  done,  that  is  the  best  of  all.  I  know 
it,  and  therefore  Fm  the  happiest  of  all." 

But  the  children  could  neither  hear  that  nor  understand 
it,  nor  ought  they,  for  children  must  not  know  everything. 


THE  GIRL  WHO  TROD  ON  THE  LOAF. 

The  story  of  the  girl  who  trod  on  the  loaf  to  avoid  soiling 
her  shoes,  and  of  the  misfortune  that  befell  this  girl,  is  well 
known.  It  has  been  written,  and  even  printed. 

The  girl's  name  was  Inge:  she  was  a  poor  child,  but  proud 
and  presumptuous;  there  was  a  bad  foundation  in  her,  as 


204  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

the  saying  is.  When  she  was  quite  a  little  child,  it  was  her 
delight  to  catch  flies,  and  tear  off  their  wings,  so  as  to  con- 
vert them  into  creeping  things.  Grown  older,  she  would 
take  cockchafers  and  beetles,  and  spit  them  on  pins.  Then 
she  pushed  a  green  leaf  or  a  little  scrap  of  paper  toward 
their  feet,  and  the  poor  creatures  seized  it,  and  held  it  fast, 
and  turned  it  over  and  over,  struggling  to  get  free  from  the 
pin. 

"The  cockchafer  is  reading,"  Inge  would  say.  "See  how 
he  turns  the  leaf  round  and  round!" 

With  years  she  grew  worse  rather  than  better;  but  she  was 
pretty,  and  that  was  her  misfortune;  otherwise  she  would 
have  been  more  sharply  reproved  than  she  was. 

"Your  headstrong  will  requires  something  strong  to 
break  it!"  her  own  mother  often  said.  "As  a  little  child, 
you  used  to  trample  on  my  apron;  but  I  fear  you  will  one 
day  trample  on  my  heart." 

And  that  is  what  she  really  did. 

She  was  sent  into  the  country,  in  service  in  the  house  of 
rich  people,  who  kept  her  as  their  own  child,  and  dressed 
her  in  corresponding  style.  She  looked  well,  and  her  pre- 
sumption increased. 

When  she  had  been  there  about  a  year,  her  mistress  said 
to  her,  "You  ought  once  to  visit  your  parents,  Inge." 

And  Inge  set  out  to  visit  her  parents,  but  it  was  only  to 
show  herself  in  her  native  place,  and  that  the  people  there 
might  see  how  grand  she  had  become;  but  when  she  came 
to  the  entrance  of  the  village,  and  the  young  husbandmen 
and  maids  stood  there  chatting,  and  her  own  mother  ap- 
peared among  them,  sitting  on  a  stone  to  rest,  and  with  a 
faggot  of  sticks  before  her  that  she  had  picked  up  in  the 
wood,  then  Inge  turned  back,  for  she  felt  ashamed  that  she, 
who  was  so  finely  dressed,  should  have  for  a  mother  a  ragged 
woman  who  picked  up  wood  in  the  forest.  She  did  not  turn 
back  out  of  pity  for  her  mother's  poverty;  she  was  only 
angry. 

And  another  half-year  went  by,  and  her  mistress  said 
again,  "You  ought  to  go  to  your  home,  and  visit  your  old 
parents,  Inge.  I'll  make  you  a  present  of  a  great  wheaten 
loaf  that  you  may  give  to  them :  they  will  certainly  be  glad 
to  see  you  again." 

And  Inge  put  on  her  best  clothes,  and  her  new  shoes,  and 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  205 

drew  her  skirts  around  her,  and  set  out,  stepping  very  care- 
fully, that  she  might  be  clean  and  neat  about  the  feet;  and 
there  was  no  harm  in  that.  But  when  she  came  to  the  place 
where  the  footway  led  across  the  moor,  and  where  there  was 
mud  and  puddles,  she  threw  the  loaf  into  the  mud,  and  trod 
upon  it  to  pass  over  without  wetting  her  feet.  But  as  she 
stood  there,  with  one  foot  upon  the  loaf  and  the  other  up- 
lifted to  step  farther,  the  loaf  sank  with  her,  deeper  and 
deeper,  till  she  disappeared  altogether,  and  only  a  great 
puddle,  from  which  the  bubbles  rose,  remained  where  she 
had  been. 

And  that's  the  story. 

But  whither  did  Inge  go?  She  sank  into  the  moor  ground, 
and  went  down  to  the  Moor  Woman,  who  is  always  brewing 
there.  The  Moor  Woman  is  cousin  to  the  Elf  Maidens, 
who  are  well  known,  of  whom  songs  are  sung,  and  whose 
pictures  are  orinted;  but  concerning  the  Moor  Woman  it 
is  only  known  that  when  the  meadows  steam  in  summer- 
time, it  is  because  she  is  brewing.  Into  the  Moor  Woman's 
brewery  did  Inge  sink  down;  and  no  one  can  endure  that 
place  long.  A  box  of  mud  is  a  place  compared  with  the 
Moor  Woman's  brewery.  Every  barrel  there  has  an  odor 
that  almost  takes  away  one's  senses;  and  the  barrels  stand 
close  to  each  other;  and  wherever  there  is  a  little  opening 
among  them,  through  which  one  might  push  one's  way, 
the  passage  becomes  impracticable  from  the  number  of 
damp  toads  and  fat  snakes  who  sit  out  their  time  there. 
Among  this  company  did  Inge  fall;  and  all  the  horrible  mass 
of  living,  creeping  things  was  so  icy  cold,  that  she  shud- 
dered in  all  her  Hmbs,  and  became  stark  and  stifif.  She  con- 
tinued fastened  to  the  loaf,  and  the  loaf  drew  her  down  as 
an  amber  button  draws  a  fragment  of  straw. 

The  Moor  Woman  was  at  home,  and  on  that  day  there 
were  visitors  in  the  brewery.  These  visitors  were  Old  Boge)^ 
and  his  grandmother,  who  came  to  inspect  it;  and  Bogey's 
grandmother  is  a  venomous  old  woman,  who  is  never  idle; 
she  never  rides  out  to  pay  a  visit  without  taking  her  work 
with  her;  and  accordingly  she  had  brought  it  on  the  day  in 
q'jestion.  She  sewed  biting  leather  to  be  worked  into  men's 
shoes,  and  which  makes  them  wander  about,  unable  to  set- 
tle anyv/here.  She  wove  webs  of  lies,  and  strung  together' 
hastily-spoken  words  that  had  fallen  to  the  ground;  and  all 


206  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

this  was  done  for  the  injury  and  ruin  of  mankind.  Yes,  she 
knew  how  to  sew,  to  weave,  and  to  string,  this  old  grand- 
mother! 

Catching  sight  of  Inge,  she  put  up  her  double  eyeglass, 
and  took  another  look  at  the  girl. 

"That's  a  girl  who  has  ability!"  she  observed,  "and  I  beg 
you  will  give  me  the  little  one  as  a  memento  of  my  visit 
here.  She'll  make  a  capital  statue  to  stand  in  my  grandson's 
ante-chamber." 

And  Inge  was  given  up  to  her,  and  this  is  how  Inge 
came  into  Bogey's  domain.  People  don't  always  go  there 
by  the  direct  path,  but  they  can  get  there  by  roundabout 
routes  if  they  have  a  tendency  in  that  direction. 

That  v/as  a  never-ending  ante-chamber.  The  visitor  be- 
came giddy  who  looked  forward,  and  doubly  giddy  when 
he  looked  back,  and  saw  a  whole  crowd  of  people,  almost 
utterly  exhausted,  waiting  till  the  gate  of  mercy  should  be 
opened  to  them — they  had  to  wait  a  long  time!  Great  fat, 
waddling  spiders  spun  webs  of  a  thousand  years  over  their 
feet,  and  these  webs  cut  like  wire,  and  bound  them 
like  bronze  fetters;  and,  moreover,  there  was  an  eternal 
unrest  working  in  every  heart — a  miserable  unrest.  The 
'miser  stood  there,  and  had  forgotten  the  key  of  his  strong 
box,  and  he  knew  the  key  was  sticking  in  the  lock.  It  would 
take  too  long  to  describe  the  various  sorts  of  torture  that 
Avere  found  there  together.  Inge  felt  a  terrible  pain  while 
she  had  to  stand  there  as  a  statue,  for  she  was  tied  fast  to  the 
loaf. 

"That's  the  fruit  of  wishing  to  keep  one's  feet  neat 
and  tidy,"  she  said  to  herself.  "Just  look  how  they're  all 
staring  at  me!" 

Yes,  certainly,  the  eyes  of  all  were  fixed  upon  her,  and 
their  evil  thoughts  gleamed  forth  from  their  eyes,  and  they 
spoke  to  one  another,  moving  their  lips,  from  which  no 
sound  whatever  came  forth :  they  were  very  horrible  to  be- 
hold. 

"It  must  be  a  great  pleasure  to  look  at  me!"  thought  Inge, 
"and  indeed  I  have  a  pretty  face  and  fine  clothes."  And 
she  turned  her  eyes,  for  she  could  not  turn  her  head,  her 
neck  was  too  stifif  for  that.  But  she  had  not  considered  how 
her  clothes  had  been  soiled  in  the  Moor  Woman's  brew- 
house.    Her  garments  were  covered  with  mud:  a  snake  had 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES.  207 

fastened  in  her  hair,  and  dangling  down  her  back;  and  out 
of  each  fold  of  her  frock  a  great  toad  looked  forth,  croak- 
ing like  an  asthmatic  poodle.  That  was  very  disconcerting. 
"But  all  the  rest  of  them  down  here  look  horrible,"  she  ob- 
served to  herself,  and  derived  consolation  from  the  thought 
The  worst  of  all  was  the  terrible  hunger  that  tormented 
her.  But  could  she  not  stoop  and  break  off  a  piece  of  the 
loaf  on  which  she  stood?  No,  her  back  was  so  stiff  her 
hands  and  arms  were  benumbed,  and  her  whole  body  was 
like  a  pillar  of  stone;  only  she  was  able  to  turn  her  eyes  in 
her  head  to  turn  them  quite  round,  so  that  she  could  see 
backward:  it  was  an  ugly  sight.  And  then  the  flies  came  up, 
and  crept  to  and  fro  over  her  eyes,  and  she  blinked  her  eyes 
but  the  flies  would  not  go  away,  for  they  could  not  fly' 
their  wmgs  had  been  pulled  out,  so  that  they  were  con- 
verted into  creeping  insects:  it  was  horrible  torment  added 
to^the  hunger,  for  she  felt  empty,  quite,  entirely  empty 

If  this  lasts  much  longer,"  she  said,  'T  shall  not  be  able 
to  bear  it. 

But  she  had  to  bear  it,  and  it  lasted  on  and  on. 
Ihen  a  hot  tear  fell  down  upon  her  head,  rolled  over  her 
tace  and  neck,  down  on  to  the  loaf  on  which  she  stood-  and 
then  another  tear  rolled  down,  followed  by  many  more 
Who  might  be  weeping  for  Inge?  Had  she  not  still  a 
mother  m  the  world?  The  tears  of  sorrow  which  a  mother 
weeps  for  her  child  always  make  their  way  to  the  child;  but 
they  do  not  relieve  it;  they  only  increase  its  torment.  And 
now  to  bear  this  unendurable  hunger,  and  yet  not  be 
u  UA  ^'^^^the.  ^oaf  on  which  she  stood!  She  felt  as  if 
she  had  been  feeding  on  herself,  and  had  become  like  a  thin, 
hollow  reed  that  takes  m  every  sound,  for  she  heard  every^ 
thing  that  was  said  of  her  up  in  the  world,  and  all  that  she 
heard  was  hard  and  evil.  Her  mother,  indeed,  wept  much 
and  sorrowed  for  her,  but  for  all  that  she  said,  "A  haughty 
spirit  goes  be  ore  a  fall.  That  was  thy  ruin,  Inge.  Thou 
hast  sorely  grieved  thy  mother."  ^ 

Her  mother  and  all  on  earth  knew  of  the  sin  she  had 
commmed;  knew  that  she  had  trodden  upon  the  loaf   and 

frnrn  T   vul     ?PP;^''^'    ^°"  ^^^  ^°^herd  had  seen  it 
irom  the  hill  beside  the  moor. 

rr^^f^^'^^Hy  ^^'^  *^°"  grieved 'thy  mother,  Inge,"  said  the 
mother;  "yes,  yes,  I  thought  it  would  be  thus  " 


208  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"Oh,  that  I  never  had  been  born!"  thought  Inge:  "it 
would  have  been  far  better.  But  what  use  is  my  mother's 
weeping  now?" 

And  she  heard  how  her  master  and  mistress,  who  had  kept 
and  cherished  her  like  kind  parents,  now  said  she  was  a 
sinful  child,  and  did  not  value  the  gifts  of  God,  but  trampled 
them  under  her  feet,  and  that  the  gates  of  mercy  would  only 
open  slowly  to  her. 

"They  should  have  punished  me,"  thought  Inge,  "and 
have  driven  out  the  whims  I  had  in  my  head." 

She  heard  how  a  complete  song  was  made  about  her,  a 
song  of  the  proud  girl  who  trod  upon  the  loaf  to  keep  her 
shoes  clean,  and  she  heard  how  the  song  was  sung  every- 
where. 

"That  I  should  have  to  bear  so  much  evil  for  that!" 
thought  Inge;  "the  others  ought  to  be  punished,  too,  for 
their  sins.  Yes,  then  there  would  be  plenty  of  punishing 
to  do.     Ah,  how  I'm  being  tortured!" 

And  her  heart  became  harder  than  her  outward  form. 

"Here  in  this  company  one  can't  even  become  better," 
she  said,  "and  I  don't  want  to  become  better!  Look  how 
they're  all  staring  at  me !"  And  her  heart  was  full  of  anger 
and  malice  against  all  men.  "Now  they've  something  to 
talk  about  at  last  up  yonder.  Ah,  how  I  am  being  tor- 
tured!" 

And  then  she  heard  how  her  story  was  told  to  the  little 
children,  and  the  little  ones  called  her  the  godless  Inge,  and 
said  that  she  was  so  naughty  and  ugly  that  she  must  be  well 
punished. 

Thus  even  the  children's  mouths  spoke  hard  words  of  her. 

But  one  day,  while  grief  and  hunger  gnawed  her  hollow 
frame,  and  she  heard  her  name  mentioned  and  her  story  told 
to  an  innocent  child,  a  little  girl,  she  became  aware  that  the 
little  one  burst  into  tears  at  the  tale  of  the  haughty,  vain 
Inge. 

"But  will  Inge  never  come  up  here  again?"  asked  the 
little  girl. 

And  the  reply  was,  "She  will  never  come  up  again." 

"But  if  she  were  to  say  she  was  sorrv,  and  to  beg  pardon, 
and  say  she  would  never  do  so  again?'' 

"Yes,  then  she  might  come;  but  she  vdll  not  beg  pardon," 
was  the  reply. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  209 

'■'I  should  be  so  glad  if  she  would,"  said  the  little  girl;  and 
she  appeared  to  be  quite  inconsolable.  "I'll  give  my  doll 
and  all  my  playthings  if  she  may  only  come  up.  It's  too 
dreadful — poor  Inge!" 

And  these  words  penetrated  to  Inge's  inmost  heart,  and 
seemed  to  do  her  good.  It  was  the  first  time  anyone  had 
said  "Poor  Inge,"  without  adding  anything  about  her  faults: 
a  little  innocent  child  was  weeping  and  praying  for  mercy 
for  her.  It  made  her  feel  quite  strangely,  and  she  herself 
would  gladly  have  wept,  but  she  could  not  weep,  and  that 
was  a  torment  in  itself. 

While  years  were  passing  above  her,  for  where  she  was 
there  was  no  change,  she  heard  herself  spoken  of  more  and 
more  seldom.  At  last  one  day  a  sigh  struck  on  her  ear: 
"Inge,  Inge,  how  you  have  grieved  me!  I  said  how  it 
would  be!"    It  was  the  last  sigh  of  her  dying  mother. 

Occasionally  she  heard  her  name  spoken  by  her  former 
employers,  and  they  were  pleasant  words  when  the  woman 
said,  "Shall  I  ever  see  thee  again,  Inge?  One  knows  not 
what  may  happen?" 

But  Inge  knew  right  well  that  her  good  mistress  would 
never  come  to  the  place  where  she  was. 

And  again  time  went  on — a  long,  bitter  time.  Then 
Inge  heard  her  name  pronounced  once  more,  and  saw  two 
bright  stars  that  seemed  gleaming  above  her.  They  were 
two  gentle  eyes  closing  upon  earth.  So  many  years  had 
gone  by  since  the  little  girl  had  been  inconsolable  and  wept 
about  "poor  Inge,"  that  the  child  had  become  an  old  wo- 
man, and  was  now  to  be  called  home  to  heaven;  and  in  the 
last  hour  of  existence,  when  the  events  of  the  whole  life 
stand  at  once  before  us,  the  old  woman  remembered  how  as 
a  child  she  had  cried  heartily  at  the  story  of  Inge. 

And  the  eyes  of  the  old  woman  closed,  and  the  eye  of  her 
soul  was  opened  to  look  upon  the  hidden  things.  She,  in 
whose  last  thoughts  Inge  had  been  present  so  vividly,  saw 
how  deeply  the  poor  girl  had  sunk,  and  burst  into  tears  at 
the  sight;  in  heaven  she  stood  like  a  child,  and  wept  for 
poor  Inge.  And  her  tears  and  prayers  sounded  like  an 
echo  in  the  dark  empty  space  that  surrounded  the  tor- 
mented, captive  soul,  and  the  unhoped-for  love  from  above 
conquered  her,  for  an  angel  was  weeping  for  her.  Why 
was  this  vouchsafed  to  her?     The  tormented  soul  seemed 

14 


210  ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES. 

to  gather  in  her  thoughts  every  deed  she  had  done  on  earth, 
and  she,  Inge,  trembled  and  wept  such  tears  as  she  had 
never  yet  wept.  She  was  filled  with  sorrow  about  herself: 
it  seemed  as  though  the  gate  of  mercy  could  never  open  to 
her;  and  while  in  deep  penitence  she  acknowledged  this,  a 
beam  of  light  shot  radiantly  down  into  the  depths  to  her, 
with  a  greater  force  than  that  of  the  sunbeam  which  melts 
the  snow  man  the  boys  have  built  up ;  and  quicker  than  the 
snowflake  melts  and  becomes  a  drop  of  water  that  falls  on 
the  warm  lips  of  a  child,  the  stony  form  of  Inge  was  changed 
to  mist,  and  a  little  bird  soared  with  the  speed  of  lightning 
upward  into  the  world  of  men.  But  the  bird  was  timid  and 
shy  toward  all  things  around;  he  was  ashamed  of  himself, 
ashamed  to  encounter  any  living  thing,  and  hurriedly  sought 
to  conceal  himself  in  a  dark  hole  in  an  old  crumbling  wall; 
there  he  sat  cowering,  trembling  through  his  whole  frame, 
and  unable  to  utter  a  sound,  for  he  had  no  voice.  Long  he 
sat  there  before  he  could  rightly  see  all  the  beauty  around 
him;  for  it  was  beautiful.  The  air  was  fresh  and  mild,  the 
moon  cast  its  mild  radiance  over  the  earth;  trees  and  bushes 
exhaled  fragrance,  and  it  was  right  pleasant  where  he  sat, 
and  his  coat  of  feathers  was  clean  and  pure.  How  all 
creation  seemed  to  speak  of  beneficence  and  love!  The 
bird  wanted  to  sing  of  the  thoughts  that  stirred  in  his  breast, 
but  he  could  not;  gladly  would  he  have  sung  as  the  cuckoo 
and  the  nightingale  sang  in  the  springtime.  But  Heaven, 
that  hears  the  mute  song  of  praise  of  the  worm,  could  hear 
the  notes  of  praise  which  now  trembled  in  the  breast  of 
the  bird,  as  David's  psalms  were  heard  before  they  had  fash- 
ioned themselves  into  words  and  song. 

For  weeks  these  toneless  songs  stirred  within  the  bird;  at 
last  the  holy  Christmas  time  approached.  Tlie  peasant  who 
dwelt  near  set  up  a  pole  by  the  old  wall,  with  some  ears  of 
corn  bound  to  the  top,  that  the  birds  of  heaven  might  have 
a  good  meal,  and  rejoice  in  the  happy,  blessed  time. 

And  on  Christmas  morning  the  sun  arose  and  shone  upon 
the  ears  of  corn,  which  were  surrounded  by  a  number  of 
twittering  birds.  Then  out  of  the  hole  in  the  wall  streamed 
forth  the  voice  of  another  bird,  and  the  bird  soared  forth 
from  his  hiding  place;  and  in  heaven  it  was  well  known 
what  bird  this  was. 

It  was  a  hard  winter.    The  ponds  were  covered  with  ice, 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  211 

and  the  beasts  of  the  field  and  the  birds  of  the  air  were 
stinted  for  food.  Our  Httle  bird  soared  away  over  the  high 
road,  and  in  the  ruts  of  the  sledges  he  found  here  and  there 
a  grain  of  corn,  and  at  the  halting  places  some  crumbs.  Of 
these  he  ate  only  a  few,  but  he  called  all  the  other  hungry 
sparrows  around  him^  that  they,  too,  might  have  some  food. 
He  flew  into  the  towns,  and  looked  round  about;  and  wher- 
ever a  kind  hand  had  strewn  bread  on  the  window  sill  for 
the  birds,  he  only  ate  a  single  crumb  himself,  and  gave  all 
the  rest  to  the  other  birds. 

In  the  course  of  the  winter,  the  bird  had  collected  so 
many  bread  crumbs,  and  given  them  to  the  other  birds, 
that  they  equaled  the  weight  of  the  loaf  on  which  Inge  had 
trod  to  keep  her  shoes  clean;  and  when  the  last  bread  crumb 
had  been  found  and  given,  the  gray  wings  of  the  bird  be- 
came white,  and  spread  far  out. 

"Yonder  is  a  sea  swallow,  flying  away  across  the  water," 
said  the  children,  when  they  saw  the  white  bird.  Now  it 
dived  into  the  sea,  and  now  it  rose  again  into  the  clear  sun- 
light. It  gleamed  white;  but  no  one  could  tell  whither  it 
went,  though  some  asserted  that  it  flew  straight  into  the 
sun. 


THE  MONEY  PIG. 

In  the  nursery  a  number  of  toys  lay  strewn  about;  high 
up,  on  the  wardrobe,  stood  the  money  box,  made  of  clay  and 
purchased  of  the  potter,  and  it  was  in  the  shape  of  a  little 
pig;  of  course  the  pig  had  a  slit  in  his  back,  and  this  slit 
had  been  so  enlarged  with  a  knife  that  whole  dollar  pieces 
could  slip  through;  and,  indeed,  two  such  had  slipped  into 
the  box,  besides  a  number  of  pence.  The  Money  Pig  was 
stuffed  so  full  that  it  could  no  longer  rattle,  and  that  is  the 
highest  point  of  perfection  a  money  pig  can  attain.  There  it 
stood  upon  the  cupboard,  high  and  lofty,  looking  down 
upon  everything  else  in  the  room.  It  knew  very  well  that 
what  it  had  in  its  stomach  would  have  bought  all  the  toys, 
and  that  is  what  we  call  having  self-respect. 

The  others  thought  of  that  too,  even  if  they  did  not  ex- 
actly express  it,  for  there  were  many  other  things  to  speak 
of.    One  of  the  drawers  was  half  pulled  out,  and  there  lay 


212  ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES. 

a  great,  handsome  Doll,  though  she  was  somewhat  old,  and 
her  neck  had  been  mended.    She  looked  out  and  said:' 

"Now  we'll  play  at  men  and  women,  for  that  is  always 
something!"  ^ 

And  now  there  was  a  general  uproar,  and  even  the 
framed  prints  on  the  walls  turned  round  and  showed  that 
there  was  a  wrong  side  to  them;  but  they  did  not  do  it  to 
protest  against  the  proposal. 

It  was  late  at  night;  the  moon  shone  through  the  window 
frames  and  afforded  the  cheapest  light.  The  game  was 
now  to  begin,  and  all  even  the  children's  Go-Cart  which 
certamly  belonged  to  the  coarser  playthings,  were 'invited 
to  take  part  in  the  sport. 

^^  "Each  one  has  his  own  peculiar  value,"  said  the  Go-Cart  • 
we  cannot  all  be  noblemen.    There  must  be  some  who  do 
the  work,  as  the  saying  is." 

_  The  Money  Pig  was  the  only  one  who  received  a  written 
mvitation,  for  he  was  of  high  standing,  and  they  were 
afraid  he  would  not  accept  a  verbal  message.  Indeed,  he 
did  not_  answer  to  say  whether  he  would  come,  nor  did  he 
come:  if  he  was  to  take  a  part,  he  must  enjoy  the  sport  from 
his  own  home;  they  were  to  arrange  accordingly,  and  so 
they  did. 

The  little  toy  theater  was  now  put  up  in  such  a  way  that 
the  Money  Pig  could  look  directly  in.  They  wanted  to  be- 
gin with  a  comedy,  and  afterward  there  was  to  be  a  tea  party 
and  a  discussion  for  mental  improvement,  and  with  this 
latter  part  they  began  immediately.  The  Rocking  Horse 
spoke  of  training  and  races,  the  Go-Cart  of  railwavs  and 
steam  power,  for  all  this  belonged  to  their  profession 'and  it 
was  quite  right  they  should  talk  of  it.  The  Clock  talked 
politics— ticks— sticks— and  knew  what  was  the  time  of  day, 
though  it  was  whispered  he  did  not  go  correctly  the 
Bamboo  Cane  stood  there,  stiff  and  proud,  for  he  was  con- 
ceited about  his  brass  ferrule  and  his  silver  top,  for  beino- 
thus  bound  above  and  below;  and  on  the  sofa  lay  two 
worked  Cushions,  pretty  and  stupid,  and  now  the  plav  be- 
gan. 

All  sat  and  looked  on.  and  it  was  requested  that  the  audi- 
ence should  applaud  and  crack  and  stamp  according  as  they 
were  gratified.    But  the  Riding  Whip  said  he  never  cracked 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  213 

for  old  people,  only  for  young  ones  who  were  not  yet  mar- 
ried. 

"I  crack  for  everything,"  said  the  Cracker. 

All  these  were  the  thoughts  they  had  while  the  play  went 
on.  The  piece  was  worthless,  but  it  was  well  played;  all 
the  characters  turned  their  painted  side  to  the  audience,  for 
they  were  so  made  that  they  should  only  be  looked  at  from 
that  side,  and  not  from  the  other;  and  all  played  wonder- 
fully well,  coming  out  quite  beyond  the  lamps,  because  the 
wires  were  a  little  too  long,  but  that  only  made  them  come 
out  the  more.  The  darned  Doll  was  quite  exhausted  with 
excitement — so  thoroughly  exhausted  that  she  burst  at  the 
darned  place  in  her  neck,  and  the  Money  Pig  was  so  en- 
chanted in  his  way  that  he  formed  the  resolution  to  do 
something  for  one  of  the  players,  and  to  remember  him  in 
his  will  as  the  one  who  should  be  buried  with  him  in  the 
family  vault,  when  matters  were  so  far  advanced. 

It  was  true  enjoyment,  such  true  enjoyment  that  they 
quite  gave  up  the  thoughts  of  tea,  and  only  carried  out  the 
idea  of  mental  recreation.  That's  what  they  called  playing 
at  men  and  women ;  and  there  was  nothing  wrong  in  it,  for 
they  were  only  playing;  and  each  one  thought  of  himself 
and  of  what  the  Money  Pig  might  think;  and  the  Money 
Pig  thought  farthest  of  all,  for  he  thought  of  making  his 
will  and  of  his  burial.  And  when  might  this  come  to  pass? 
Certainly  far  sooner  than  was  expected.  Crack!  it  fell 
down  from  the  cupboard — fell  on  the  ground,  and  was 
broken  to  pieces;  and  the  pennies  hopped  and  danced  in 
comical  style:  the  little  ones  turned  round  like  tops,  and 
the  bigger  ones  rolled  away,  particularly  the  one  great 
silver  dollar  who  wanted  to  go  out  into  the  world.  And  he 
came  out  into  the  world,  and  they  all  succeeded  in  doing 
so.  And  the  pieces  of  the  Money  Pig  were  put  into  the 
dust  bin;  but  the  next  day  a  new  Money  Pig  was  standing 
on  the  cupboard:  it  had  not  yet  a  farthing  in  its  stomach, 
and  therefore  could  not  rattle,  and  in  this  it  was  like  the 
other.  And  that  was  a  beginning — and  with  that  we  will 
make  an  end. 


214  ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES. 


THE  DARNING-NEEDLE. 


There  was  once  a  Darning-Needle,  who  thought  herself 
so  fine,  she  imagined  she  was  an  embroidering  needle. 

'Take  care,  and  mind  you  hold  me  tight!"  she  said  to 
the  Fingers  which  took  her  out.  "Don't  let  me  fall!  If  I 
fall  on  the  ground  I  shall  certainly  never  be  found  again,  for 
I  am  so  fine!" 

"That's  as  it  may  be,"  said  the  Fingers;  and  they  grasped 
her  round  the  body. 

"See,  I'm  coming  with  a  train !"  said  the  Darning-Needle, 
and  she  drew  a  long  thread  ?fter  her,  but  there  was  no  knot 
in  the  thread. 

The  Fingers  pointed  the  needle  just  at  the  cook's  slipper, 
in  which  the  upper  leather  had  burst,  and  was  to  be  sewn 
together. 

"That's  vulgar  work,"  said  the  Darning-Needle.  "I  shall 
never  get  through.  I'm  breaking!  I'm  breaking!"  And 
she  really  broke.  ''Did  I  not  say  so?"  said  the  Darning- 
Needle;  "I'm  too  fine." 

"Now  it's  quite  useless,"  said  the  Fingers;  but  they  were 
obliged  to  hold  her  fast,  all  the  same;  for  the  cook  dropped 
some  sealing  wax  upon  the  needle,  and  pinned  her  handker- 
chief together  with  it  in  front. 

"So  now  I'm  a  breastpin!"  said  the  Darning-Needle.  "I 
knew  very  well  that  I  should  come  to  honor:  when  one  is 
something,  one  comes  to  something." 

And  she  laughed  quietly  to  'nerself — and  one  can  never  see 
when  a  Darning-Needle  laughs.  There  she  sat,  as  proud  as 
if  sTie  was  in  a  state  coach,  and  looked  all  about  her. 

May  I  be  permitted  to  ask  if  you  are  of  gold?"  she  in- 
quired of  the  pin,  her  neighbor.  "You  have  a  very  pretty 
appearance,  and  a  peculiar  head,  but  it  is  only  little.  You 
must  take  pains  to  grow,  for  it's  not  everyone  that  has  seal- 
ing wax  dropped  upon  him." 

And  the  Darning-Needle  drew  herself  up  so  proudly  that 
she  fell  out  of  the  handkerchief  right  into  the  sink,  which 
the  cook  was  rinsing  out. 

"Now  we're  going  on  a  journey,"  said  the  Darning- 
Needle.    "If  I  only  don't  get  lost." 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  215 

But  she  really  was  lost. 

"I'm  too  fine  for  this  world,"  she  observed,  as  she  lay  in 
the  gutter.  "But  I  know  who  I  am,  and  there's  always 
something  in  that." 

So  the  Darning-Needle  kept  her  proud  behavior,  and  did 
not  lose  her  good  humor.  And  things  of  many  kinds  swam 
over  her,  chips  and  straws  and  pieces  of  old  newspapers, 

"Only  look  how  they  sail!"  said  the  Darning-Needle. 
"They  don't  know  what  is  under  them!  I'm  here;  I  remain 
firmly  here.  See,  there  goes  a  chip  thinking  of  nothing  in 
the  world  but  of  himself — of  a  chip !  There's  a  straw  going 
by  now.  How  he  turns!  How  he  twirls  about!  Don't 
think  only  of  yourself;  you  might  easily  run  up  against  a 
stone.  There  swims  a  bit  of  newspaper.  What's  written 
upon  it  has  long  been  forgotten,  and  yet  it  gives  itself  airs. 
I  sit  quietly  and  patiently  here.  I  know  who  I  am,  and  I 
shall  remain  what  I  am." 

One  day  something  lay  close  beside  her  that  glittered 
splendidly;  then  the  Darning-Needle  believed  that  it  was 
a  diamond;  but  it  was  a  Bit  of  broken  Bottle;  and  because  it 
shone,  the  Darning-Needle  spoke  to  it,  introducing  herself 
as  a  breastpin. 

"I  suppose  you  are  a  diamond?"  she  observed. 

"Why,  yes,  something  of  that  kind." 

And  then  each  believed  the  other  to  be  a  very  valuable 
thing;  and  they  began  speaking  about  the  world,  and  how 
very  conceited  it  was. 

"I  have  been  in  a  lady's  box,  said  the  Darning-Needle^ 
"and  this  lady  was  a  cook.  She  had  five  fingers  on  each 
hand,  and  I  never  saw  anything  so  conceited  as  those  five 
fingers.  And  yet  they  were  only  there  that  they  might  take 
me  out  of  the  box,  and  put  me  back  into  it." 

"Were  they  of  good  birth?"  asked  the  Bit  of  Bottle. 

"No,  indeed,"  replied  the  Darning-Needle,  "but  very 
haughty.  There  were  five  brothers,  all  of  the  Finger  family. 
They  kept  very  proudly  together,  though  they  were  of  dif- 
ferent lengths:  the  outermost,  the  thumbling,  was  short 
and  fat;  he  walked  out  in  front  of  the  ranks,  and  only  had 
one  joint  in  his  back,  and  could  only  make  a  single  bow;  but 
he  said  if  he  were  hacked  off  from  a  man,  that  man  was  use- 
less from  service  in  war.  Dainty-mouth,  the  second  finger, 
thrust  himself  into  sweet  and  sour,  pointed  to  the  sun  and 


216  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

moon,  and  gave  the  impression  when  they  wrote.  Long- 
man, the  third,  looked  at  all  the  others  over  his  shoulder. 
Goldborder,  the  fourth,  went  about  with  a  golden  belt  round 
his  waist;  and  little  Playman  did  nothing  at  all,  and  was 
proud  of  it.  There  was  nothing  but  bragging  among  them, 
and  therefore  I  went  away." 

"And  now  we  sit  here  and  glitter!"  said  the  Bit  of  Bot- 
tle. 

At  that  moment  more  water  came  into  the  gutter,  so  that 
it  overflowed,  and  the  Bit  of  Bottle  was  carried  away. 

"So,  he  is  disposed  of,"  observed  the  Darning-Needle. 
"I  remain  here,  I  am  too  fine.  But  that's  my  pride,  and  my 
pride  is  honorable."  And  proudly  she  sat  there,  and  had 
many  great  thoughts.  "I  could  almost  believe  I  had  been 
born  of  a  sunbeam,  I'm  so  fine.  It  really  appears  to  me  as 
if  the  sunbeam.s  were  ahvays  seeking  for  me  under  the  water. 
Ah!  I'm  so  fine  that  my  mother  cannot  find  me.  If  I  had 
my  old  eye,  which  broke  off,  I  think  I  should  cry;  but,  no, 
I  should  not  do  that;  it's  not  genteel  to  cry." 

One  day  a  couple  of  street  boys  lay  grubbing  in  the 
gutter,  where  they  sometimes  found  old  nails,  farthings,  and 
similar  treasures.  It  was  dirty  work,  but  they  took  great 
delight  in  it. 

"Oh!"  cried  one,  who  had  pricked  himself  with  the  Darn- 
ing-Needle.    "There's  a  fellow  for  you." 

"I'm  not  a  fellow,  I'm  a  young  lady,"  said  the  Darning- 
Needle. 

But  nobody  listened  to  her.  The  sealing  wax  had  come 
off,  and  she  had  turned  black;  but  black  makes  one  look 
slender,  and  she  thought  herself  finer  even  than  before. 

"Here  comes  an  egg-shell  sailing  along,"  said  the  boys; 
and  they  stuck  the  Darning-Needle  fast  into  the  egg-shell. 

"White  walls,  and  black  myself!  that  looks  well,"  re- 
remarked  the  Darning  Needle.  "Now  one  can  see  me.  I 
only  hope  I  shall  not  be  seasick!"  But  she  was  not  seasick 
at  all.  "It  is  good  against  seasickness,  if  one  has  a  steel 
stomach,  and  does  not  forget  that  one  is  a  little  more  than 
an  ordinar}'  person!  Now  my  seasickness  is  over.  The  finer 
one  is,  the  more  one  can  bear." 

"Crack!"  went  the  egg-shell,  for  a  handbarrow  went  over 
her. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  217 

"Good  Heavens,  how  it  crushes  one!"  said  the  Darning- 
Needle.    "I'm  getting  seasick  now — I'm  quite  sick." 

But  she  was  not  really  sick,  though  the  handbarrow  went 
over  her;  she  lay  there  at  full  length,  and  there  she  may 
lie. 


THE  FIR  TREE. 

Out  in  the  forest  stood  a  pretty  little  Fir  Tree.  It  had  a 
good  place;  it  could  have  sunlight,  air  there  was  in  plenty, 
and  all  around  grew  many  larger  comrades — pines  as  well 
as  firs.  But  the  little  Fir  Tree  wished  ardently  to  become 
greater.  It  did  not  care  for  the  warm  sun  and  the  fresh  air; 
it  took  no  notice  of  the  peasant  children,  who  went  about 
talking  together,  when  they  had  come  out  to  look  for  straw- 
berries and  raspberries.  Often  they  came  with  a  whole  pot- 
full,  or  had  strung  berries  on  a  straw;  then  they  would  sit 
down  by  the  little  Fir  Tree  and  say,  "How  pretty  and  small 
that  one  is!"  and  the  Fir  Tree  did  not  like  to  hear  that  at 
all. 

Next  year  he  had  grown  a  great  joint,  and  the  following 
year  he  was  longer  still,  for  in  fir  trees  one  can  always  tell 
by  the  number  of  rings  they  have  how  many  years  they 
have  been  growing. 

"Oh,  if  I  were  only  as  great  a  tree  as  the  other!"  sighed 
the  little  Fir,  "then  I  would  spread  my  branches  far  around, 
and  look  out  from  my  crown  into  the  wide  world.  The  birds 
would  then  build  nests  in  my  boughs,  and  when  the  wind 
blew  I  could  nod  just  as  grandly  as  the  others  yonder." 

It  took  no  pleasure  in  the  sunshine,  in  the  birds,  and  in 
the  red  clouds  that  went  sailing  over  him  morning  and  even- 
ing. 

When  it  was  winter,  and  the  snow  lay  all  around,  white 
and  sparkling,  a  hare  v*'ould  often  come  jumping  along,  and 
spring  right  over  the  little  Fir  Tree.  Oh!  this  made  him  so 
angry.  But  two  winters  went  by,  and  when  the  third  came 
the  little  Tree  had  grown  so  tall  that  the  hare  was  obliged 
to  run  round  it. 

"Oh!  to  grow,  to  grow,  and  become  old;  that's  the  only 
fine  thing  in  the  world,"  thought  the  Tree. 

In  the  autumn  woodcutters  always  came  and  felled  a  few 


218  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

of  the  largest  trees;  that  was  done  this  year  too,  and  the  lit- 
tle Fir  tree,  that  was  now  quite  well  grown,  shuddered  with 
fear,  for  the  great  stately  trees  fell  to  the  ground  with  a 
crash,  and  their  branches  were  cut  off,  so  that  the  trees 
looked  quite  naked,  long,  and  slender — they  could  hardly  be 
recognized.  But  then  they  were  laid  upon  wagons,  and 
horses  dragged  them  away  out  of  the  wood.  Where  were 
they  going?     What  destiny  awaited  them? 

In  the  spring,  when  the  Swallows  and  the  Stork  came, 
the  Tree  asked  them,  "Do  you  know  where  they  were  taken 
Did  you  not  meet  them?" 

The  Swallows  knew  nothing  about  it,  but  the  Stork  looked 
thoughtful,  nodded  his  head,  and  said: 

"Yes,  I  think  so.  I  met  many  new  ships  when  I  flew  out 
of  Egypt;  on  the  ships  were  stately  masts;  I  fancy  these 
were  the  trees.  They  smelt  like  fir.  I  can  assure  you  they're 
stately — very  stately." 

"Oh  that  I  were  only  big  enough  to  go  over  the  sea! 
What  kind  of  thing  is  this  sea,  and  how  does  it  look?" 

"It  would  take  too  long  to  explain  all  that,"  said  the 
Stork,  and  he  went  away. 

"Rejoice  in  thy  youth,"  said  the  Sunbeams;  "rejoice  in  thy 
fresh  growth,  and  in  the  young  life  that  is  within  thee." 

And  the  wind  kissed  the  Tree,  and  the  dew  wept  tears 
upon  it;  but  the  Fir  Tree  did  not  understand  that. 

When  Christmas-time  approached,  quite  young  trees  were 
felled,  sometimes  trees  which  were  neither  so  old  nor  so 
large  as  this  Fir  Tree,  that  never  rested,  but  always  wanted 
to  go  away.  These  young  trees,  which  were  always  the  most 
beautiful,  kept  all  their  branches;  they  were  put  upon 
wagons,  and  horses  dragged  them  away  out  of  the  wood. 

'Where  are  they  all  going?"  asked  the  Fir  Tree.  "They 
are  not  greater  than  I — indeed,  one  of  them  was  much 
smaller.  Why  do  they  keep  all  their  branches?  Whither 
are  they  taken?" 

''We  know  that!  We  know  that!"  chirped  the  Sparrows. 
"Yonder  in  the  town  we  looked  in  at  the  windows.  We 
know  where  they  go.  Oh!  they  are  dressed  up  in  the  great- 
est pomp  and  splendor  that  can  be  imagined.  We  have 
looked  in  at  the  windows,  and  have  perceived  that  they  are 
planted  in  the  middle  of  a  warm  room,  and  adorned  with  the 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  219 

most  beautiful  things — gilt  apples,  honey-cakes,  playthings, 
and  many  hundreds  of  candles." 

"And  then?"  asked  the  Fir  Tree,  and  trembled  through 
all  its  branches.    "And  then?    What  happens  then?" 

"Why,  we  have  not  seen  anything  more.  But  it  was 
incomparable." 

"Perhaps  I  may  be  destined  to  tread  this  glorious  path 
one  day!"  cried  the  Fir  Tree,  rejoicingly.  "That  is  even  bet- 
ter than  traveling  across  the  sea.  How  painfully  I  long  for 
it!  If  it  were  only  Christmas  now!  Now  I  am  great  and 
grown  up,  like  the  rest  who  were  led  away  last  year.  Oh, 
if  I  were  only  on  the  carriage!  If  I  were  only  in  the  warm 
room,  among  all  the  pomp  and  splendor!  And  then?  Yes, 
then  something  even  better  will  come,  something  far  more 
charming,  or  else  why  should  they  adorn  me  so?  There 
must  be  something  grander,  something  greater  still  to  come; 
but  what?  Oh!  I'm  sufifering,  I'm  longing!  I  don't  know 
myself  what  is  the  matter  with  me!" 

"Rejoice  in  us,"  said  Air  and  Sunshine.  "Rejoice  in  thy 
fresh  youth  here  in  the  woodland." 

But  the  Fir  Tree  did  not  rejoice  at  all,  but  it  grew  and 
grew;  winter  and  summer  it  stood  there,  green,  dark  green. 
The  people  who  saw  it  said,  "That's  a  handsome  tree!"  and 
at  Christmas-time  it  was  felled  before  anyone  of  the  others. 
The  ax  cut  deep  into  its  marrow,  and  the  tree  fell  to  the 
ground  with  a  sigh ;  it  felt  a  pain,  a  sensation  of  faintness,  and 
could  not  think  at  all  of  happiness,  for  it  was  sad  at  parting 
from  it  home,  from  the  place  where  it  had  grown  up;  it 
knew  that  it  should  never  again  see  the  dear  old  compan- 
ions, the  little  bushes  and  flowers  all  round — perhaps  not 
even  the  birds.    The  parting  was  not  at  all  agreeable. 

The  Tree  only  came  to  itself  when  it  was  vmloaded  in  a 
yard,  with  other  trees,  and  heard  a  man  say: 

"This  one  is  famous ;  we  only  want  this  one !" 

Now  two  servants  came  in  gay  liveries,  and  carried  the 
Fir  Tree  into  a  large,  beautiful  saloon.  All  around  the  walls 
hung  pictures,  and  by  the  great  stove  stood  large  Chinese 
vases  with  lions  on  the  covers;  there  were  rocking-chairs, 
silken  sofas,  great  tables  covered  with  picture  books,  and 
toys  worth  a  hundred  times  a  hundred  dollars,  at  least  the 
children  said  so.  And  the  Fir  Tree  was  put  into  a  great  tub, 
filled  with  sand;  but  no  one  could  see  that  it  was  a  tub, 


220  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

for  it  was  hung  round  with  green  cloth,  and  stood  on  a  large, 
many-colored  carpet.  O'h,  how  the  Tree  trembled! 
What  was  to  happen  now?  The  servants,  and  the  young 
ladies  also,  decked  it  out.  On  one  branch  they  hung  lit- 
tle nets,  cut  out  of  colored  paper;  every  net  was  filled  with 
sweetmeats;  golden  apples  and  walnuts  hung  down,  as  if 
red,  v/hite,  and  blue,  were  fastened  to  the  different  boughs, 
they  grew  there,  and  more  than  a  hundred  little  candles, 
Dolls  that  looked  exactly  like  real  people — the  Tree  had 
never  seen  such  before — swung  among  the  foliage,  and  high 
on  the  summit  of  the  Tree  was  fixed  a  tinsel  star.  It  was 
splendid,  particularly  splend'd. 

"This  evening,"  said  all,  "this  evening  it  will  shine." 

"Oh,"  thought  the  Tree,  "that  it  were  evening  already! 
Oh,  that  the  lights  may  be  soon  lit  up!  When  may  that  be 
done?  I  wonder  if  trees  will  come  out  of  the  forest  to  look 
at  me?  Will  the  Sparrows  fly  against  the  panes?  Shall  I 
grow  fast  here,  and  stand  adorned  in  summer  and  winter?" 

Yes,  he  did  not  guess  badly.  But  he  had  a  complete 
backache  from  m.ere  longing,  and  the  backache  is  just  as 
bad  for  a  tree  as  the  headache  for  a  person. 

At  last  the  candles  were  lighted.  What  a  brilliance,  what 
splendor!  The  Tree  trembled  so  in  all  its  branches  that  one 
of  the  candles  set  fire  to  a  green  twig,  and  it  was  scorched. 

"Heaven  preserve  us!"  cried  the  young  ladies;  and  they 
hastily  put  the  fire  out. 

Now  the  Tree  might  not  even  tremble.  Oh,  that  was  ter- 
rible! It  was  so  afraid  of  setting  fire  to  some  of  its  orna- 
ments, and  it  was  quite  bewildered  with  all  the  brilliance. 
A-nd  now  the  folding  doors  were  thrown  open,  and  a  number 
of  children  rushed  in  as  if  they  would  have  overturned  the 
whole  Tree;  the  older  people  followed  more  deliberately. 
The  little  ones  stood  quite  silent,  but  only  for  a  minute; 
then  they  shouted  till  the  room  rang:  they  danced  gleefully 
round  the  Tree,  and  one  present  after  another  was  plucked 
from  it. 

"What  are  they  about?"  thought  the  Tree.  "What's  go- 
ing to  be  done?" 

And  the  candles  burned  down  to  the  twigs,  and  as  they 
burned  down  they  were  extinguished,  and  then  the  chil- 
dren received  permission  to  plunder  the  Tree.  Oh!  they 
rushed  in  upon  it,  so  that  every  branch  cracked  again:   if 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  221 

it  had  not  been  fastened  by  the  top  and  by  the  golden  star 
to  the  ceiHng,  it  would  have  fallen  down. 

The  children  danced  about  with  their  pretty  toys.  No 
one  looked  at  the  Tree  except  one  old  man,  who  came  up 
and  peeped  among  the  branches,  but  only  to  see  if  a  fig  or 
an  apple  had  not  been  forgotten. 

"A  story!  A  story!"  shouted  the  children;  and  they  drew 
a  little  fat  man  toward  the  tree;  and  he  sat  down  just  be- 
neath it — "for  then  we  shall  be  in  the  green  wood,"  said  he, 
"and  the  Tree  may  have  the  advantage  of  listening  to  my 
tale.  But  I  can  only  tell  one.  Will  you  hear  the  story  of 
Ivede- Avede,  or  of  Klumpey-Dumpey,  who  fell  downstairs, 
and  still  was  raised  up  to  honor  and  married  the  Princess?" 

"Ivede-Avede!"  cried  some,  "Klumpey-Dumpey!"  cried 
others,  and  there  was  a  great  crying  and  shouting.  Only 
the  Fir  Tree  v/as  quite  silent,  and  thought,  "Shall  T  not  be  in 
it?  Shall  I  have  nothing  to  do  in  it?"  But  he  had  been  in 
the  evening's  amusement,  and  had  done  what  was  required 
of  him. 

And  the  fat  man  told  about  Klumpey-Dumpey  who  fell 
downstairs,  and  yet  was  raised  to  honor  and  married  the 
Princess.  And  the  children  clapped  their  hands,  and  cried, 
"Tell  another!  tell  another!"  for  they  wanted  to  hear  about 
Ivere- Avede;  but  they  only  got  the  story  of  Klumpey- 
Dumpey.  The  Fir  Tree  stood  quite  silent  and  thoughtful; 
never  had  the  birds  in  the  wood  told  such  a  story  as  that. 
Klumpey-Dumpey  fell  downstairs,  and  yet  came  to  honor 
and  married  the  Princess! 

"Yes,  so  it  happens  in  the  world !"  thought  the  Fir  Tree, 
and  believed  it  must  be  true,  because  that  was  such  a  nice 
man  who  told  it.  "Well,  who  can  know?  Perhaps  I  shall 
fall  downstairs,  too,  and  marry  a  Princess!"  And  it  looked 
forward  vv^ith  pleasure  to  being  adorned  again,  the  next 
evening,  with  candles  and  toys,  gold  and  fruit.  "To-mor- 
row I  shall  not  tremble,"  it  thought. 

"I  will  rejoice  in  all  my  splendor.  To-morrow  I  shall  hear 
the  story  of  Klumpey-Dumpey  again,  and  perhaps  that  of 
Ivede-Avede,  too." 

And  the  Tree  stood  all  night  quiet  and  thoughtful. 

In  the  morning  the  servants  and  the  chambermaid  came 
in. 

^'Now  my  splendor  will  begin  afresh,"  thought  the  Tree. 


222  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

But  they  dragged  him  out  of  tTie  room,  and  upstairs  to  the 
garret,  and  here  they  put  him  in  a  dark  corner  where  no 
dayhght  shone. 

"What's  the  meaning  of  this?"  thought  the  Tree.  "What 
am  I  to  do  here?    What  is  to  happen?" 

And  he  leaned  against  the  wall  and  thought,  and  thought. 
And  he  had  time  enough,  for  days  and  nights  went  by,  and 
nobody  came  up;  and  when  at  length  someone  came,  it 
was  only  to  put  some  great  boxes  in  a  corner.  Now  the  Tree 
stood  quite  hidden  away,  and  the  supposition  is  that  it  was 
quite  forgotten. 

"Now  it's  winter  outside,"  thought  the  Tree.  "The  earth 
is  hard  and  covered  with  snow,  and  people  cannot  plant  me; 
therefore  I  suppose  I'm  to  be  sheltered  here  until  spring 
comes.  How  considerate  that  is!  How  good  people  are! 
If  it  were  only  not  so  dark  here,  and  so  terribly  solitary! — • 
not  even  a  little  hare?  That  was  pretty  out  there  in  the 
wood,  when  the  snow  lay  thick  and  the  hare  sprang  past; 
yes,  even  when  he  jumped  over  me;  but  then  I  did  not  like 
it.     It  is  terribly  lonely  up  here!" 

"Piep!  piep!"  said  a  little  Mouse,  and  crept  forward,  and 
then  came  another  little  one.'  They  smelt  at  the  Fir  Tree, 
and  then  slipped  among  the  branches. 

"It's  horrible  cold,"  said  the  two  little  Mice,  "or  else  it 
would  be  comfortable  here.  Don't  you  think  so,  you  old 
Fir  Tree?" 

"I'm  not  old  at  all,"  said  the  Fir  Tree.  "There  are  many 
much  older  than  I." 

"Where  do  you  come  from?"  asked  the  Mice.  "And 
what  do  you  know?"  They  were  dreadfully  inquisitive. 
"Tell  us  about  the  most  beautiful  spot  on  earth.  Have  you 
been  there ^  Have  you  been  in  the  store  room,  where  cheeses 
lie  on  the  shelves,  and  hams  hang  from  the  ceiling,  where 
one  dances  on  tallow  candles,  and  goes  in  thin  and  comes 
out  fat?" 

"I  don't  know  that,"  replied  the  Tree;  "but  I  know  the 
wood,  where  the  sun  shines  and  the  birds  sing." 

And  then  it  told  all  about  its  youth. 

And  the  little  Mice  had  never  heard  anything  of  the  kind; 
and  they  listened  and  said: 

"What  a  number  of  things  you  have  seen!  How  happy 
you  must  have  been !" 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  223 

"I?"  replied  the  Fir  Tree;  and  it  thought  about  what  it 
had  told.  "Yes,  those  were  really  quite  happy  times."  But 
then  he  told  of  the  Christmas  Eve,  when  he  had  been  hung 
with  sweetmeats  and  candles. 

"Oh!"  said  the  little  Mice,  "how  happy  you  have  been, 
you  old  Fir  Tree!" 

"I'm  not  old  at  all,"  said  the  Tree.  "I  only  came  out  of 
the  wood  this  winter.  I'm  only  rather  backward  in  my 
growth." 

"What  splendid  stories  you  can  tell!"  said  the  little  Mice. 

And  next  night  they  came  with  four  other  little  Mice,  to 
hear  what  the  Tree  had  to  relate;  and  the  more  it  said,  the 
more  clearly  did  it  remember  everything,  and  thought, 
"Those  were  quite  merry  days.  But  they  may  come  again. 
Klumpey-Dumpey  fell  downstairs,  and  yet  he  married  the 
Princess.  Perhaps  I  may  marry  a  Princess  too?"  And  then 
the  Fir  Tree  thought  of  a  pretty  little  Birch  Tree  that  grew 
out  in  the  forest:  for  the  Fir  Tree,  that  Birch  was  a  real 
Princess. 

"Who's  Klumpey-Dumpey?"  asked  the  little  Mice. 

And  then  the  Fir  Tree  told  the  whole  story.  It  could  re- 
member every  single  word;  and  the  little  Mice  were  ready 
to  leap  to  the  very  top  of  the  tree  with  pleasure.  Next  night 
a  great  many  more  Mice  came,  and  on  Sunday  two  Rats 
even  appeared;  but  these  thought  the  story  was  not  pretty, 
and  the  little  Mice  were  sorry  for  that^  for  now  they  also  did 
not  like  it  so  much  as  before. 

"Do  you  only  know  one  story?"  asked  the  Rats. 

"Only  that  one,"  replied  the  Tree.  "I  heard  that  on  the 
happiest  evening  of  my  Hfe;  I  did  not  think  then  how  hap- 
py I  was." 

"That's  a  very  miserable  story.  Don't  you  know  any 
about  bacon  and  tallow  candies — a  store-room  story?" 

"No,"  said  the  Tree. 

"Then  we'd  rather  not  hear  you,"  said  the  Rats. 

And  they  went  back  to  their  own  people.  The  little  Mice 
at  last  stayed  away  also;  and  then  the  Tree  sighed  and  said: 

"It  was  very  nice  when  they  sat  round  me,  the  merry  lit- 
tle Mice,  and  listened  when  I  spoke  to  them.  Now  that's 
past  too.  But  I  shall  remember  to  be  pleased  when  they 
take  me  out." 

But  when  did  that  happen?    Why,  it  was  one  morning 


224  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

that  people  came  and  rummaged  in  the  garret:  the  boxes 
were  put  away,  and  the  Tree  brought  out;  they  certainly 
threw  him  rather  roughly  on  the  floor,  but  a  servant 
dragged  him  away  at  once  to  the  stairs,  where  the  daylight 
shone. 

"Now  life  is  beginning  again!"  thought  the  Tree. 

It  felt  the  fresh  air  and  the  first  sunbeams,  and  now  it  was 
out  in  the  courtyard.  Everything  passed  so  quickly  that  the 
Tree  quite  forgot  to  look  at  itself,  there  was  so  much  to  look 
at  all  round.  The  courtvard  was  close  to  a  garden,  and  here 
everything  was  blooming;  the  roses  hung  fresh  and  fragrant 
over  the  little  paling,  the  linden  trees  were  in  blossom,  and 
the  Swallows  cried,  "Quinze-wit!  quinze-wit!  my  husband's 
come!"    But  it  was  not  the  Fir  Tree  that  they  meant. 

"Now  I  shall  live!"  said  the  Tree,  rejoicingly,  and  spread 
its  branches  far  out;  but,  alas!  they  were  all  withered  and 
yellow;  and  it  lay  in  the  corner  among  nettles  and  weeds. 
The  tinsel  star  was  still  upon  it,  and  shone  in  the  bright  sun- 
shine. 

In  the  courtyard  a  couple  of  the  merry  children  were  play- 
ing who  had  danced  round  the  Tree  at  Christmas  time,  and 
had  rejoiced  over  it.  One  of  the  youngest  ran  up  and  tore 
ofif  the  golden  star. 

"Look  what  is  sticking  to  the  ugly  old  Fir  Tree!"  said 
the  child,  and  he  trod  upon  the  branches  till  they  cracked 
again  under  his  boots. 

And  the  Tree  looked  at  all  the  blooming  flowers  and  the 
splendor  of  the  garden,  and  then  looked  at  itself,  and  wished 
it  had  remained  in  the  dark  corner  of  the  garret;  it  thought 
of  its  fresh  youth  in  the  wood,  of  the  merry  Christmas  Eve, 
and  of  the  little  Mice  which  had  listened  so  pleasantly  to  the 
story  of  Klumpey-Dumpey. 

"Past!  past!"  said  the  old  Tree.  "Had  I  but  rejoiced 
when  I  could  have  done  so!    Past!  past!" 

And  the  servant  came  and  chopped  the  Tree  into  little 
pieces;  a  whole  bundle  lay  there;  it  blazed  brightly  under 
the  great  brewing  copper,  and  it  sighed  deeply,  and  each 
sigh  was  like  a  little  shot;  and  the  children  who  were  at  play 
there  ran  up  and  seated  themselves  at  the  fire,  looked  into 
it,  and  cried  "Pufif!  pufif!"  But  at  each  explosion,  which 
was  a  deep  sigh,  the  Tree  thought  of  a  summer  day  in  the 
woods,  or  of  a  winter  night  there,  when  the  stars  beamed; 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  225 

he  thought  of  Christmas  Eve  and  of  Klumpey-Dumpey,  the 
only  story  he  had  ever  heard  or  knew  how  to  tell;  and  then 
the  Tree  was  burned. 

The  boys  played  in  the  garden,  and  the  youngest  had  on 
his  breast  a  golden  star,  which  the  Tree  had  worn  on  its 
happiest  evening.  Now  that  was  past,  and  the  Tree's  life 
was  past,  and  the  story  is  past  too:  past!  past! — and  that's 
the  way  with  all  stories. 


SOMETHING. 


"I  want  to  be  something!"  said  the  eldest  of  five  brothers. 
"I  want  to  do  something  in  the  world.  I  don't  care  how 
humble  my  position  may  be  in  society,  if  I  only  effect  some 
good,  for  that  will  really  be  something.  I'll  make  bricks,  for 
they  are  quite  indispensable  things,  and  then  I  shall  truly 
have  done  something." 

"But  that  something  will  not  be  enough!"  quoth  the  sec- 
ond brother.  "What  you  intend  doing  is  just  as  much  as 
nothing  at  all.  It  is  journeymen's  work,  and  can  be  done  by 
a  machine.  No,  I  would  rather  be  a  bricklayer  at  once,  for 
that  is  something  real;  and  thafs  what  I  will  be.  That 
brings  rank:  as  a  bricklayer  one  belongs  to  a  guild,  and  is 
a  citizen,  and  has  one's  own  flag  and  one's  own  house  of 
call.  Yes,  and  if  all  goes  well,  I  will  keep  journeymen.  I 
shall  become  a  master  bricklayer,  and  my  wife  will  be  a  mas- 
ter's wife — that  is  what  I  call  something." 

"That's  nothing  at  all!"  said  the  third.  "That  is  beyond 
the  pale  of  the  guild,  and  there  are  many  of  those  in  a 
town  that  stand  far  above  the  mere  master  artisan.  You 
may  be  an  honest  man;  but  as  a  'master'  you  will  after  all 
only  belong  to  those  who  are  ranked  among  common  men. 
I  know  som.ething  better  than  that.  I  will  be  an  architect, 
and  will  thus  enter  into  the  territory  of  art  and  speculation. 
I  shall  be  reckoned  among  those  who  stand  high  in  point  of 
intellect.  I  shall  certainly  have  to  serve  up  from  the  pick- 
ax, so  to  speak;  so  I  must  begin  as  a  carpenter's  apprentice, 
and  must  go  about  as  an  assistant,  in  a  cap,  though  I  am  ac- 
customed to  wear  a  silk  hat.  I  shall  have  to  fetch  beer  and 
spirits  for  the  common  journeymen,  and  they  will  call  me 

15 


226  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

'thou,'  and  that  is  insulting!  But  I  shall  imagine  to  myself 
that  the  whole  thing  is  only  acting,  and  a  kind  of  mas- 
querade. To-morrow — that  is  to  say,  when  I  have  served 
my  time — I  shall  go  my  own  way,  and  the  others  will  be 
nothing  to  me.  I  shall  go  to  the  academy,  and  get  instruc- 
tions in  drawing,  and  shall  be  called  an  architect.  That's 
something!  I  may  get  to  be  called  'sir,'  and  even  'worship- 
ful sir,'  or  even  get  a  handle  at  the  front  or  at  the  back  of 
my  name,  and  shall  go  on  building  and  building,  just  as 
those  before  me  have  built.  That  will  always  be  a  thing  to 
remember,  and  that's  what  I  call  something!" 

"But  I  don't  care  at  all  for  that  something,"  said  the 
fourth.  "I  won't  sail  in  the  wake  of  others,  and  be  a  copyist. 
I  will  be  a  genius,  and  will  stand  up  greater  than  all  the  rest 
of  you  together.  I  shall  be  creator  of  a  new  style,  and 
will  give  the  plan  of  a  building  suitable  to  the  climate  and 
material  of  the  country,  for  the  nationality  of  the  people,  for 
the  development  of  the  age — and  an  additional  story  for  my 
own  genius." 

"But  supposing  the  climate  and  the  material  are  bad,"  said 
the  fifth,  "that  would  be  a  disastrous  circumstance,  for  these 
two  exert  a  great  influence.  Nationality,  moreover,  may 
expand  itself  until  it  becomes  aflfectation,  and  the  develop- 
ment of  the  century  may  run  wild  with  your  work,  as  youth 
often  runs  wild.  I  quite  realize  the  fact  that  none  of  you  will 
be  anything  real,  however  much  you  may  believe  in  your- 
selves. But^  do  what  you  like,  I  will  not  resemble  you:  I 
shall  keep  on  the  outside  of  things,  and  criticise  whatever 
you  produce.  To  every  work  there  is  attached  something 
that  is  not  right — something  that  has  gone  wrong,  and  I  will 
ferret  that  out  and  find  fault  with  it;  and  that  will  be  doing 
something!" 

And  he  kept  his  word;  and  everybody  said  concerning 
this  fifth  brother:  "There  is  certainly  something  in  him;  he 
has  a  good  head,  but  he  does  nothing."  And  by  that  very 
means  they  thought  something  of  him! 

Now,  you  see,  this  is  only  a  little  story;  but  it  will  never 
end  as  long  as  the  world  lasts. 

But  what  became  of  the  five  brothers?  Why,  this  is 
nothing  and  not  something. 

Listen,  it  is  a  capital  story. 

The  eldest  brother,  he  who  manufactured  bricks,  soon  be- 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  227 

came  aware  of  the  fact  that  every  brick,  however  small  it 
might  be,  produced  for  him  a  httle  coin,  though  this  coin 
was  only  copper;  and  many  copper  pennies  laid  one  upon 
the  other  can  be  changed  into  a  shining  dollar;  and  wher- 
ever one  knocks  with  such  a  dollar  in  one's  hand,  whether  at 
the  bakers,  or  the  butcher's,  or  the  tailor's — wherever  it 
may  be,  the  door  flies  open,  and  the  visitor  is  welcomed,  and 
gets  what  he  wants.  You  see  that  is  what  comes  of  bricks. 
Some  of  these  belonging  to  the  eldest  brother  certainly 
crumbled  away,  or  broke  in  two,  but  there  was  a  use  even 
for  these. 

On  the  high  rampart,  the  wall  that  kept  out  the  sea,  Mar- 
garet, the  poor  woman,  wished  to  build  herself  a  little  house. 
All  the  faulty  bricks  were  given  to  her,  and  a  few  perfect 
ones  into  the  bargain,  for  the  eldest  brother  was  a  good- 
natured  man,  though  he  certainly  did  not  achieve  anything 
beyond  the  manufacture  of  bricks.  The  poor  woman  put 
together  the  house  for  herself.  It  was  little  and  narrow,  and 
the  single  window  was  quite  crooked.  The  door  was  too 
low,  and  the  thatched  roof  might  have  shown  better  work- 
manship. But  after  all  it  was  a  shelter;  and  from  the  little 
house  you  could  look  far  across  the  sea,  whose  waves  broke 
plainly  against  the  protecting  rampart  on  which  it  was  built. 
The  salt  billows  spurted  their  spray  over  the  whole  house, 
which  was  still  standing  when  he  who  had  given  the  bricks 
for  its  erection  had  long  been  dead  and  buried. 

The  second  brother  knew  better  how  to  build  a  wall,  for 
he  had  served  an  apprenticeship  to  it.  When  he  had  served 
his  time  and  passed  his  examination,  he  packed  his  knap- 
sack and  sang  the  journeyman's  song: 

"While  I  am  young  I'll  wander,  from  place  to  place  I'll  roam, 
And  everywhere  build  houses,  until  I  come  back  home; 
And  youth  will  give  me  courage,  and  my  true  love  won't  forget; 
Hurrah,  then,  for  a  workman's  life!    I'll  be  a  master  yet!" 

And  he  carried  his  idea  into  effect.  When  he  had  come 
home  and  become  a  master,  he  built  one  house  after  another 
in  the  town.  He  built  a  whole  street;  and  when  the  street 
was  finished  and  become  an  ornament  to  the  place,  the 
houses  built  a  house  for  him  in  return,  that  was  to  be  his 
own.    But  how  can  houses  build  a  house?    If  you  ask  them 


228  ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES. 

they  will  not  answer  you,  but  people  will  understand  what  is 
meant  by  the  expression,  and  say,  "Certainly,  it  was  the 
street  that  built  his  house  for  him."  It  was  little,  and  the 
floor  was  covered  with  clay;  but  when  he  danced  with  his 
bride  upon  this  clay  floor,  it  seemed  to  become  poHshed  oak; 
and  from  every  stone  in  the  wall  sprang-  forth  a  flower,  and 
the  room  was  gay,  as  if  with  the  costliest  paperhanger's 
work.  It  was  a  pretty  house,  and  in  it  lived  a  happy  pair. 
The  flag  of  the  guild  fluttered  before  the  house,  and  the 
journeymen  and  apprentices  shouted  hurrah!  Yes,  he  cer- 
tainly was  something!  And  at  last  he  died;  and  that  was 
something  too. 

Now  came  the  architect,  the  third  brother,  who  had  been 
at  first  a  carpenter's  apprentice,  had  worn  a  cap,  and  served 
as  an  errand  boy,  but  had  afterward  gone  to  the  academy, 
and  risen  to  become  an  architect,  and  to  be  called  "honored 
sir."  Yes,  if  the  houses  of  the  street  had  built  a  house  for 
the  brother  who  had  become  a  bricklayer  the  street  now  re- 
ceived its  name  from  the  architect,  and  the  handsomest 
house  in  it  became  his  property.  That  was  something,  and 
he  was  something;  and  he  had  a  long  title  before  and  after 
his  name.  His  children  were  called  genteel  children,  and 
when  he  died  his  widow  was  "a  widow  of  rank,"  and  that  is 
something!  and  his  name  always  remained  at  the  corner  of 
the  street,  and  lived  on  in  the  mouth  of  everyone  as  the 
street's  name — and  that  was  something! 

Now  came  the  genius  of  the  family,  the  fourth  brother, 
who  wanted  to  invent  something  new  and  original,  and  an 
additional  story  on  the  top  of  it  for  himself.  But  the  top 
story  tumbled  down,  and  he  came  tumbling  down  with  it, 
and  broke  his  neck.  Nevertheless,  he  had  a  splendid  fun- 
eral, with  guild  flags  and  music,  poems  in  the  papers,  and 
flowers  strewn  on  the  paving  stones  in  the  street:  and  three 
funeral  orations  were  held  over  him,  each  one  longer  than 
the  last,  which  would  have  rejoiced  him  greatly,  for  he  al- 
w'ays  liked  it  when  people  talked  about  him,  a  monument 
also  was  erected  over  his  grave.  It  was  only  one  story  high, 
but  still  it  was  something. 

Now  he  was  dead,  like  the  three  other  brothers;  but  the 
last,  the  one  who  was  a  critic,  outlived  them  all;  and  that 
was  quite  right,  for  by  this  means  he  got  the  last  word,  and  it 
was  of  great  importance  to  him  to  have  the  last  word.  The 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY   TALES.  m 

people  always  said  he  had  a  good  head  of  his  own.  At  last 
his  hour  came,  and  he  died,  and  came  to  the  gates  of  Para- 
dise. There  souls  always  enter  two  and  two,  and  he  came  up 
v/ith  another  soul  that  wanted  to  get  into  Paradise  too; 
and  who  should  this  be  but  old  Dame  Margaret  from  the 
house  upon  the  sea  wall. 

"I  suppose  this  is  done  for  the  sake  of  contrast,  that  I  and 
this  wretched  soul  should  arrive  here  at  exactly  the  same 
time,"  said  the  critic.  'Tray  who  are  you,  my  good  woman?" 
he  asked.    "Do  you  want  to  get  in  here  too?" 

And  the  old  woman  courtesied  as  well  as  she  could;  she 
thought  it  must  be  St.  Peter  himself  talking  to  her. 

"Fm  a  poor  old  woman  of  a  very  humble  family,"  she  re- 
plied. "I'm  old  Margaret  that  lived  in  the  house  on  the  sea 
wall." 

"Well,  and  what  have  you  done?  What  have  you  ac- 
complished down  there?" 

"I  have  really  accomplished  nothing  at  all  in  the  world: 
nothing  that  I  can  plead  to  have  the  doors  here  opened  to 
me.  It  would  be  a  real  mercy  to  allow  me  to  slip  in  through 
the  gate." 

"In  what  manner  did  you  leave  the  world?"  asked  he, 
just  for  the  sake  of  saying  something;  for  it  was  wearisome 
work  standing  there  and  saying  nothing. 

"Why,  I  really  don't  know  how  I  left  it.  I  was  sick  and 
miserable  during  my  last  years,  and  could  not  well  bear 
creeping  out  of  bed,  and  going  out  suddenly  into  the  frost 
and  cold.  It  was  a  hard  winter,  but  I  have  got  out  of  it  all 
now.  For  a  few  days  the  weather  was  quite  calm,  but  very 
cold,  as  your  honor  m.ust  very  well  know.  The  sea  was  cov- 
ered with  ice  as  far  as  one  could  look.  All  the  people  from 
the  town  walked  out  upon  the  ice,  and  I  think  they  said 
there  was  a  dance  there  and  skating.  There  was  beautiful 
music  and  a  great  feast  there  too;  the  sound  came  into  my 
poor  little  room,  where  I  lay  ill.  And  it  was  toward  the 
evening;  the  moon  had  risen  beautifully,  but  was  not  yet 
in  its  full  splendor.  I  looked  from  my  bed  out  over  the  wide 
sea,  and  far  off,  just  where  the  sea  and  sky  join,  a  strange 
white  cloud  came  up.  I  lay  looking  at  the  cloud,  and  I  saw 
a  little  black  spot  in  the  middle  of  it,  that  grew  larger  and 
larger;  and  now  I  knew  what  it  meant,  for  I  am  old  and  ex- 
perienced, though  this  token  is  not  often  seen.     I  knew  it, 


230  ANDERSEJN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

and  a  shuddering  came  upon  me.  Twice  in  my  life  I  have 
seen  the  same  thing;  and  I  knew  there  would  be  an  awful 
tempest,  and  a  spring  flood,  which  would  overwhelm  the 
poor  people  who  were  drinking  and  dancing  and  rejoicing — 
young  and  old,  the  Avhole  city  had  issued  forth ;  who  was  to 
warn  them,  if  no  one  saw  what  was  coming  yonder,  or 
knew,  as  I  did,  what  it  meant.  I  was  dreadfully  alarmed, 
and  felt  more  lively  than  I  had  done  for  a  long  time.  I 
crept  out  of  bed,  and  got  to  the  window,  but  could  not 
crawl  any  further,  I  was  so  exhausted.  But  I  managed  to 
open  the  window.  I  saw  the  people  outside  running  and 
jumping  about  on  the  ice;  I  could  see  the  beautiful  flags 
that  waved  in  the  wind.  I  heard  the  boys  shouting  'Hurrah!' 
and  the  servant  men  and  maids  singing.  There  w^ere  all 
kinds  of  merriment  going  on.  But  the  white  cloud  with 
the  black  spot!  I  cried  as  loud  as  I  could,  but  no  one  heard 
me;  I  was  too  far  from  the  people.  Soon  the  storm  would 
burst,  and  the  ice  would  break,  and  all  who  were  upon  it 
would  be  lost  without  remedy.  They  could  not  hear  me, 
and  I  could  not  come  out  to  them.  Oh,  if  I  could  only  bring 
them  ashore!  Then  kind  Heaven  inspired  me  with  the 
thought  of  setting  fire  to  my  bed,  and  rather  to  let  the  house 
burn  down,  than  that  all  those  people  should  perish  miser- 
ably. I  succeeded  in  lightmg  up  a  beacon  for  them.  The  red 
flame  blazed  up  on  high,  and  I  escaped  out  of  the  door,  but 
fell  down  exhausted  on  the  threshold,  and  could  get  no 
farther.  The  flames  rushed  out  toward  me,  flickered  through 
the  window,  and  rose  high  above  the  roof.  All  the  people 
on  the  ice  yonder  beheld  it  and  ran  as  fast  as  they  could  to 
give  aid  to  a  poor  old  woman  who,  they  thought,  was  being 
burned  to  death.  Not  one  remained  behind.  I  heard  them 
coming;  but  I  also  became  aware  of  a  rushing  sound  in  the 
air;  I  heard  a  rumbling  like  the  sound  of  heavy  artillery; 
the  spring  flood  was  lifting  the  covering  of  ice,  which  pres- 
ently burst  and  cracked  into  a  thousand  fragments.  But  the 
people  succeeded  in  reaching  the  sea  wall — I  saved  them  all! 
But  I  fancy  I  could  not  bear  the  cold  and  the  fright,  and  so 
I  came  up  here  to  the  gates  of  Paradise.  I  am  told  they  are 
opened  to  poor  creatures  like  me — and  now  I  have  no  house 
left  down  upon  the  rampart:  not  that  I  think  this  will  give 
me  admission  here." 
Then  the  gates  of  heaven  were  opened,  and  the  angel  led 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  231 

the  old  woman  in.  She  left  a  straw  behind  her,  a  straw  that 
had  been  in  her  bed  when  she  set  it  on  fire  to  save  the  lives 
of  many;  and  this  straw  had  been  changed  into  the  purest 
gold — into  gold  that  grew  and  grew,  and  spread  out  into 
beauteous  leaves  and  flowers. 

"Look,  this  what  the  poor  woman  brought,"  said  the  angel 
to  the  critic.  "What  dost  thou  bring?  I  know  that  thou 
hast  accomplished  nothing— thou  hast  not  made  so  much 
as  a  single  brick.  Ah,  if  thou  couldst  only  return,  and  efifect 
at  least  as  much  as  that!  Probably  the  brick,  when  thou 
hadst  made  it,  would  not  be  worth  much;  but  if  it  were  made 
with  a  good  will,  it  would  at  least  be  something.  But  thou 
canst  not  go  back,  and  I  can  do  nothing  for  thee!" 

Then  the  poor  soul,  the  old  dame  who  had  lived  on  the 
dyke,  put  in  a  petition  for  him.    She  said: 

"His  brother  gave  me  the  bricks  and  the  pieces  out  which 
I  built  up  my  house,  and  that  was  a  great  deal  for  a  poor 
woman  like  me.  Could  not  all  those  bricks  and  pieces  be 
counted  as  a  single  brick  in  his  favor?  It  was  an  act  of 
mercy.  He  wants  it  now ;  and  is  not  this  a  very  fountain  of 
mercy?" 

Then  the  angel  said: 

"Thy  brother,  him  whom  thou  hast  regarded  as  the  least 
among  you  all,  he  whose  honest  industry  seemed  to  thee  as 
the  most  humble,  hath  given  thee  this  heavenly  gift.  Thou 
shalt  not  be  turned  away.  It  shall  be  vouchsafed  to  thee  to 
stand  here  without  the  gate,  and  to  reflect,  and  repent  of 
thy  hfe  down  yonder;  but  thou  shalt  not  be  admitted  until 
thou  hast  in  earnest  accomplished  something." 

"I  could  have  said  that  in  better  words!"  thought  the 
critic,  but  he  did  not  find  fault  aloud;  and  for  him,  after  all 
that  was  "something !" 


A  LEAF  FROM  THE  SKY. 

High  up  yonder,  in  the  thin  clear  air,  flew  an  angel  with  a 
flower  from  the  heavenly  garden.  As  she  was  kissing  the 
flower,  a  very  little  leaf  fell  down  into  the  soft  soil  in  the 
midst  of  the  wood,  and  immediately  took  root,  and  sprouted, 
and  sent  forth  shoots  among  the  other  plants, 


232  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"A  funny  kind  of  slip  that,"  said  the  Plants. 

And  neither  Thistle  nor  Stinging  Nettle  would  recognize 
the  stranger. 

"That  must  be  a  kind  of  garden  plant,"  said  they. 

And  they  sneered;  and  the  plant  was  despised  by  them  as 
being  a  thing  out  of  the  garden. 

"Where  are  you  coming?"  cried  the  lofty  Thistles,  whose 
leaves  are  all  armed  with  thorns.  "You  give  yourself  a  good 
deal  of  space.  That's  all  nonsense — we  are  not  here  to  sup- 
port you !"  they  grumbled. 

And  winter  came,  and  snow  covered  the  plant;  but  the 
plant  imparted  to  the  snowy  covering  a  luster  as  if  the  sun 
was  shining  upon  it  from  below  as  from  above.  When 
spring  came,  the  plant  appeared  as  a  blooming  object,  more 
beautiful  than  any  production  of  the  forest. 

And  now  appeared  on  the  scene  the  botanical  professor, 
who  could  show  what  he  was  in  black  and  white.  He  in- 
spected the  plant  and  tested  it,  but  found  it  was  not  included 
in  his  botanical  system;  and  he  could  not  possibly  find  out 
to  what  class  it  belonged. 

"That  must  be  some  subordinate  species,"  he  said.  "I 
don't  know  it.    It's  not  included  in  any  system." 

"Not  included  in  any  S3^stem!"  repeated  the  Thistles  and 
the  Nettles. 

The  great  trees  that  stood  round  about  saw  and  heard 
it;  but  they  said  not  a  word,  good  or  bad,  which  is  the 
wisest  thing  to  do  for  people  who  are  stupid. 

There  came  through  the  forest  a  poor,  innocent  girl.  Her 
heart  was  pure,  and  her  understanding  was  enlarged  by 
faith  Her  w^hole  inheritance  was  an  old  Bible;  but  out  of 
its  pages  a  voice  said  to  her,  "If  people  wish  to  do  us  evil, 
remember  how  it  was  said  of  Joseph.  They  imagined  evil 
in  their  hearts,  but  God  turned  it  to  good.  If  we  suffer 
wrong — if  we  are  misunderstood  and  despised — then  we 
may  recall  the  words  of  Him  who  was  purity  and  goodness 
itself,  and  who  forgave  and  prayed  for  those  who  buffeted 
and  nailed  Him  to  the  cross." 

The  girl  stood  still  in  front  of  the  wonderful  plant,  whose 
great  leaves  exhaled  a  sweet  and  refreshing  fragrance,  and 
whose  flowers  glittered  like  a  colored  flame  in  the  sun;  and 
from  each  flower  there  came  a  sound  as  though  it  concealed 
within  itself  a  deep  fount  of  melody  that  thousands  of  years 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  233 

could  not  exhaust.  With  pious  gratitude  the  girl  looked 
upon  this  beautiful  work  of  the  Creator,  and  bent  down  one 
of  the  branches  toward  itself  to  breathe  in  its  sweetness;  and 
a  light  arose  in  her  soul.  It  seemed  to  do  her  heart  good; 
and  gladly  would  she  have  plucked  a  flower,  but  she  could 
not  make  up  her  mind  to  break  one  off,  for  it  would  soon 
fade  if  she  did  so.  Therefore  the  girl  only  took  a  single  leaf, 
and  laid  it  in  her  Bible  at  home;  and  it  lay  there  quite  fresh, 
always  green,  and  never  fading. 

Among  the  pages  of  the  Bible  it  was  kept;  and  with  the 
Bible  it  was  laid  under  the  young  girl's  head,  when,  a  few 
weeks  afterward,  she  lay  in  her  coffin,  with  the  solemn  calm 
of  death  on  her  gentle  face,  as  if  the  earthly  remains  bore 
the  impress  of  the  truth  that  she  now  stood  before  her 
Creator. 

But  the  wonderful  plant  still  bloomed  without  in  the 
forest.  It  was  almost  like  a  tree  to  look  upon;  and  all  the 
birds  of  passage  bowed  before  it. 

"That's  giving  itself  foreign  airs  now,"  said  the  Thistles 
ancl  the  Burdocks;   "we  never  behave  like  that  here." 

And  the  black  snails  actually  spat  at  the  flower. 

Then  came  the  swineherd.  He  was  collecting  thistles  and 
shrubs,  to  burn  them  for  the  ashes.  The  wonderful  plant 
was  placed  bodily  in  his  bundle. 

"It  shall  be  made  useful,"  he  said;  and  so  said,  so  done. 

But  soon  afterward  the  King  of  the  country  was  troubled 
with  a  terrible  depression  of  spirits.  He  was  busy  and  in- 
dustrious, but  that  did  him  no  good.  They  read  him  deep 
and  learned  books,  and  then  they  read  from  the  lightest  and 
most  superficial  that  they  could  find;  but  it  was  of  no  use. 
Then  one  of  the  wise  men  of  the  world,  to  whom  they  had 
applied,  sent  a  messenger  to  tell  the  King  that  there  was 
one  remedy  to  give  him  relief  and  to  cure  him.     He  said: 

"In  the  King's  own  country  there  grows  in  a  forest  a 
plant  of  heavenly  origin.  Its  appearance  is  thus  and  thus. 
It  cannot  be  mistaken." 

"I  fancy  it  was  taken  up  in  my  bundle,  and  burned  to 
ashes  long  ago,"  said  the  swineherd;  "but  I  did  not  know 
any  better." 

"You  did  not  know  any  better!  Ignorance  of  ignor- 
ances !" 


234  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

And  those  words  the  swineherd  might  well  take  to  him- 
self, for  they  were  meant  for  him,  and  for  no  one  else. 

Not  another  leaf  was  to  be  found;  the  only  one  lay  in 
the  coffin  of  the  dead  girl,  and  no  one  knew  anything  about 
that. 

And  the  King  himself,  in  his  melancholy,  wandered  out 
to  the  spot  in  the  wood. 

"Here  is  where  the  plant  stood,"  he  said;  "it  is  a  sacred 
place." 

And  the  place  was  surrounded  with  a  golden  railing,  and 
a  sentry  was  posted  there. 

The  botanical  professor  wrote  a  long  treatise  upon  the 
heavenly  plant.  For  this  he  was  gilded  all  over,  and  this 
gilding  suited  him  and  his  family  very  well.  And  indeed 
that  was  the  most  agreeable  part  of  the  whole  story.  But 
the  King  remained  as  low-spirited  as  before;  but  that  he 
had  always  been,  at  least  so  the  sentry  said. 


THE  JEWISH  GIRL. 

Among  the  children  in  a  charity  school  sat  a  little  Jewish 
girl.  She  was  a  good,  intelligent  child,  the  quickest  in  all 
the  school;  but  she  had  to  be  excluded  from  one  lesson,  for 
she  was  not  allowed  to  take  part  in  the  Scriptural  lesson,  for 
it  was  a  Christian  school. 

In  that  hour  the  girl  was  allowed  to  open  the  geography 
book,  or  to  do  her  sum  for  the  next  day;  but  that  was  soon 
done;  and  when  she  had  mastered  her  lesson  in  geography, 
the  book  indeed  remained  open  before  her,  but  the  little  one 
read  no  more  in  it:  she  listened  silently  to  the  words  of  the 
Christian  teacher,  who  soon  became  aware  that  she  was 
listening  more  intently  than  almost  any  of  the  other  chil- 
dren. 

"Read  your  book,  Sara,"  the  teacher  said,  in  mild  reproof; 
but  her  dark  beaming  eye  remained  fixed  upon  him;  and 
once  when  he  addressed  a  question  to  her,  she  knew  how  to 
answer  better  than  any  of  the  others  could  have  done.  She 
had  heard  and  understood,  and  had  kept  his  words  in  her 
heart. 

When  her  father,  a  poor,  honest  man,  first  brought  the 


( 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  235 

girl  to  the  school,  he  had  stipulated  that  she  should  be  ex- 
cluded from  the  lessons  on  the  Christian  faith.  But  it  would 
have  caused  disturbance,  and  perhaps  might  have  awakened 
discontent  in  the  mind  of  the  others,  if  she  had  been  sent 
from  the  room  during  the  hours  in  question,  and  conse- 
quently she  stayed ;  but  this  could  not  go  on  any  longer. 

The  teacher  betook  himself  to  her  father,  and  exhorted 
him  either  to  remove  his  daughter  from  the  school,  or  to 
consent  that  Sara  should  become  a  Christian. 

"I  can  no  longer  be  a  silent  spectator  of  the  gleaming 
eyes  of  the  child,  and  of  her  deep  and  earnest  longing  for 
the  words  of  the  Gospel,"  said  the  teacher. 

Then  the  father  burst  into  tears. 

"I  know  but  little  of  the  commandment  given  to  my 
fathers,"  he  said,  "but  Sara's  mother  was  steadfast  in  the 
faith,  a  true  daughter  of  Israel,  and  I  vowed  to  her  as  she 
lay  dying  that  our  child  should  never  be  baptized.  I  must 
keep  my  vow,  for  it  is  even  as  a  covenant  with  God  Him- 
self." 

And  accordingly  the  little  Jewish  maiden  quitted  the 
Christian  school. 

Years  have  rolled  on. 

In  one  of  the  smallest  provincial  towns  there  dwelt,  as  a 
servant  in  a  humble  household,  a  maiden  who  held  the 
Mosaic  faith.  Her  hair  was  black  as  ebony,  her  eyes  dark 
as  night,  and  yet  full  of  splendor  and  light,  as  is  usual  with 
the  daughters  of  Israel.  It  was  Sara.  The  expression  in 
the  countenance  of  the  now  grown-up  maiden  was  still  that 
of  the  child  sitting  on  the  school-room  bench,  and  listening 
with  thoughtful  eyes  to  the  words  of  the  Christian  teacher. 

Every  Sunday  there  pealed  from  the  church  the  sounds  of 
the  organ  and  the  song  of  the  congregation.  The  strain 
penetrated  into  the  house  where  the  Jewish  girl,  industrious 
and  faithful  in  all  things,  stood  at  her  work. 

"Thou  shalt  keep  holy  the  Sabbath  day,''  said  a  voice 
within  her,  the  voice  of  the  Law;  but  her  Sabbath  day  was 
a  working  day  among  the  Christians,  and  that  seemed  un- 
fortunate to  her.  But  then  the  thought  arose  in  her  soul: 
"Doth  God  reckon  by  days  and  hours?"  And  when  this 
thought  grew  strong  within  her,  it  seemed  a  comfort  that  on 
the  Sunday  of  the  Christians  the  hour  of  prayer  remainec' 
undisturbed;  and  then  the  sound  of  the  organ  and  the  songs 


236  ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES. 

of  the  congregation  sounded  across  to  her  as  she  stood  In 
the  kitchen  at  her  work,  and  even  that  place  seemed  to  be- 
come a  sacred  one  to  her.  Then  she  would  read  in  the  Old 
Testament,  the  treasure  and  comfort  of  her  people,  and  it 
was  only  in  this  one  she  could  read;  for  she  kept  faithfully 
in  the  depths  of  her  heart  the  words  the  teacher  had  spoken 
when  s'he  left  the  school,  and  the  promise  her  father  had 
given  to  her  dying  mother,  that  she  should  never  receive 
Christian  baptism,  or  deny  the  faith  of  her  ancestors.  The 
New  Testament  was  to  be  a  sealed  book  to  her;  and  yet 
she  knev^^  much  of  it,  and  the  Gospel  echoed  faintly  among 
the  recollections  of  her  youth. 

One  evening  she  was  sitting  in  a  corner  of  the  living  room. 
Her  master  was  reading  aloud ;  and  she  might  listen  to  him, 
for  it  was  not  the  Gospel  that  he  read,  but  an  old  stor}^  book", 
therefore  she  might  stay.  The  book  told  of  a  Hungarian 
knight  who  was  taken  prisoner  by  a  Turkish  pasha,  who 
caused  him  to  be  yoked  with  his  oxen  to  the  plow,  and 
driven  with  blows  of  the  whip  till  blood  came,  and  he  al- 
most sank  under  the  pain  and  ignominy  he  endured.  The 
faithful  wife  of  the  knight  at  hom.e  parted  with  all  her  jewels, 
and  pledged  castle  and  land.  The  knight's  friends  amassed 
large  sums,  for  the  ransom  demanded  was  almost  unattain- 
ably  high;  but  it  was  collected  at  last,  and  the  good  knight 
was  freed  from  servitude  and  misery.  But  soon  another 
summons  came  to  war  against  the  foes  of  Christianity;  the 
knight  heard  the  cry,  and  he  could  stay  no  longer,  for  he 
had  neither  peace  nor  rest.  He  caused  himself  to  be  lifted 
on  his  war-horse;  and  the  blood  came  back  to  his  cheek, 
his  strength  appeared  to  return,  and  he  went  forth  to  battle 
and  to  victory.  The  very  same  pasha  who  had  yoked  him 
to  the  plow  became  his  prisoner,  and  was  dragged  to  his 
castle.  But  not  an  hour  had  passed  when  the  knight  stood 
before  the  captive  pasha  and  said  to  him: 
"What  dost  thou  suppose  awaitest  thee?" 
"I  know  it,"  replied  the  Turk.  "Retribution." 
"Yes,  the  retribution  of  the  Christian!"  resumed  the 
knight.  "The  doctrine  of  Christ  commands  us  to  forgive  our 
enemies,  and  to  love  our  fellow-man,  for  it  teaches  us  that 
God  is  love.  Depart  in  peace,  depart  to  thy  home:  I  will 
restore  thee  to  thy  dear  ones;  but  in  future  be  mild  and 
merciful  to  all  who  are  unfortunate." 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY   TALES.  237 

Then  the  prisoner  broke  out  into  tears,  and  exclaimed: 

"How  could  I  believe  in  the  possibility  of  such  mercy? 
Misery  and  torment  seemed  to  await  me,  they  seemed 
inevitable;  therefore  I  took  poison,  which  I  secretly  carried 
about  me,  and  in  a  few  hours  its  effects  will  slay  me.  I 
must  die — there  is  no  remedy!  But  before  I  die,  do  thou 
expound  to  me  the  teaching  which  includes  so  great  a  meas- 
ure of  love  and  mercy,  for  it  is  great  and  godlike!  Grant 
me  to  hear  this  teaching,  and  to  die  a  Christian."  And  his 
prayer  was  fulfilled. 

That  was  the  legend  which  the  master  read  out  of  the  old 
story  book.  All  the  audience  listened  with  sympathy  and 
pleasure;  but  Sara,  the  Jewish  girl,  sitting  alone  in  her 
corner,  listened  with  a  burning  heart;  great  tears  came  into 
her  gleaming  black  eyes,  and  she  sat  there  with  a  gentle 
and  lowly  spirit  as  she  had  once  sat  on  the  school  bench, 
and  felt  the  grandeur  of  the  Gospel;  and  the  tears  rolled 
down  over  her  cheeks. 

But  again  the  dying  words  of  her  mother  rose  up  within 
her:  "Let  not  my  daughter  become  a  Christian,"  the  voice 
cried;  "and  together  with  it  arose  the  words  of  the  Law: 
"Thou  shalt  honor  thy  father  and  thy  mother." 

"I  am  not  admitted  into  the  community  of  the  Christians," 
she  said;  "they  abuse  me  for  being  a  Jew  girl — our  neigh- 
bor's boys  hooted  me  last  Sunday  when  I  stood  at  the  open 
church  door,  and  looked  in  at  the  flaming  candles  on  the 
altar,  and  listened  to  the  song  of  the  congregation.  Ever 
since  I  sat  upon  the  school  bench  I  have  felt  the  force  of 
Christianity,  a  force  like  that  of  a  sunbeam,  which  streams 
into  my  soul,  however  firmly  I  may  shut  my  eyes  against  it. 
But  I  will  not  pain  thee  in  thy  grave,  oh,  my  mother;  I 
will  not  be  unfaithful  to  the  oath  of  my  father;  I  will  not 
read  the  Bible  of  the  Christians.  I  have  the  religion  of  my 
people,  and  to  that  will  I  hold!" 

And  years  rolled  on  again. 

The  master  died.  His  widow  fell  into  poverty,  and  the 
servant  girl  was  to  be  dismissed.  But  Sara  refused  to  leave 
the  house;  she  became  the  staff  in  time  of  trouble,  and  kept 
the  household  together,  working  till  late  in  the  night  to 
earn  the  daily  bread  through  the  labor  of  her  hands,  for  no 
relative  came  forward  to  assist  the  family;  and  the  widow 
became  weaker  every  day,  and  lay  for  months  together  on 


238  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

the  bed  of  sickness.  Sara  worked  hard,  and  in  the  intervals 
sat  kindly  ministering  by  the  sick  bed:  she  was  gentle  and 
pious,  an  angel  of  blessing  in  the  poverty-stricken  house. 

"Yonder  on  the  table  lies  the  Bible,"  said  the  sick  woman 
to  Sara.  "Read  me  something  from  it;  for  the  night  ap- 
pears to  be  long — oh,  so  long! — and  my  soul  thirsts  for  the 
word  of  the  Lord." 

And  Sara  bowed  her  head.  She  took  the  book,  and  fold- 
ed her  hands  over  the  Bible  of  the  Christians,  and  opened 
it,  and  read  to  the  sick  woman.  Tears  stood  in  her  eyes, 
which  gleamed  and  shone  with  ecstasy,  and  light  shone  in 
her  heart. 

''O'h  my  mother,"  she  whispered  to  herself,  "thy  child  may 
not  receive  the  baptism  of  the  Christians,  or  be  admitted 
into  the  congregation — thou  hast  willed  it  so,  and  I  shall 
respect  thy  command:  we  will  remain  in  union  together  here 
on  earth;  but  beyond  this  earth  there  is  a  higher  union, 
even  union  in  God!  He  will  be  at  our  side,  and  lead  us 
through  the  valley  of  death.  It  is  He  that  descendeth  upon 
the  earth  when  it  is  athirst,  and  covers  it  with  fruitfulness. 
I  understand  it — I  know  not  how  I  came  to  learn  the  truth; 
but  it  is  through  Him,  through  Christ!" 

And  she  started  as  she  pronounced  the  sacred  name,  and 
there  came  upon  her  a  baptism  as  of  flames  of  fire,  and  her 
frame  shook,  and  her  limbs  tottered  so  that  she  sank  down 
fainting,  weaker  even  than  the  sick  woman  by  whose  couch 
she  had  watched. 

"Poor  Sara!"  said  the  people:  "she  is  overcome  with 
night  watching  and  toil!" 

They  carried  her  out  into  the  hospital  for  the  sick  poor. 
There  she  died;  and  from  thence  they  carried  her  to  the 
grave,  but  not  to  the  churchyard  of  the  Christians,  for  yon- 
der was  no  room  for  the  Jewish  girl;  outside,  by  the  wall, 
her  grave  was  dug. 

But  God's  sun,  that  shines  upon  the  graves  of  the  Chris- 
tians, throws  its  beams  also  upon  the  grave  of  the  Jewish 
girl  beyond  the  wall :  and  when  the  psalms  are  sung  in  the 
churchyard  of  the  Christians,  thev  echo  likewise  over  her 
lonely  resting  place;  and  she  who  sleeps  beneath  is  included 
in  the  call  to  the  resurrection,  in  the  name  of  Him  who  spake 
to  His  disciples: 

"John  baptized  you  with  water,  but  I  will  baptize  you 
with  the  Holy  Ghost!" 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  239 


THE  ELDER  TREE  MOTHER. 

There  was  once  a  little  boy  who  had  caught  cold ;  he  had 
gone  out  and  got  wet  feet;  no  one  could  imagine  how  it 
had  happened,  for  it  was  quite  dry  weather.  Now  his 
mother  undressed  him,  put  to  bed,  and  had  the  tea  urn 
brought  in  to  make  a  good  cup  of  elder  tea,  for  that  warms 
well.  At  the  same  time  there  also  came  in  at  the  door  the 
friendly  old  man  who  lived  all  alone  at  the  top  of  the  house, 
and  was  very  solitary.  He  had  neither  v/ife  nor  children, 
but  he  was  very  fond  of  little  people,  and  knew  so  many 
stories  that  it  was  quite  dehghtful. 

"Now  you  are  to  drink  your  tea,"  said  the  mother,  "and 
then  perhaps  you  will  hear  a  story." 

"Ah!  if  one  only  could  tell  a  new  one!''  said  the  old  man, 
with  a  friendly  nod.  "But  where  did  the  little  man  get  his 
feet  wet?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  mother,  "no  one  can  tell  how  that  came 
about." 

"Shall  I  have  a  story?"  asked  the  boy. 

"Yes,  if  you  can  tell  me  at  all  accurately — for  I  must 
know  that  first — how  deep  the  gutter  is  in  the  little  street 
through  which  you  go  to  school." 

"Just  half-way  up  to  my  knee,"  answered  the  boy,  "that 
is,  if  I  put  my  feet  in  the  deep  hole." 

"You  see,  that's  how  we  get  our  feet  wet,"  said  the  old- 
gentleman.  "Now  I  ought  certainly  to  tell  you  a  story; 
but  I  don't  know  any  more." 

"You  can  make  up  one  directly,"  answered  the  little  boy. 
"Mother  says  that  everything  you  look  at  can  be  turned 
into  a  story,  and  that  you  can  make  a  tale  of  everything  you 
touch." 

"Yes,  but  those  stories  and  tales  are  worth  nothing!  No, 
the  real  ones  come  of  themselves.  They  knock  at  my  fore- 
head and  say,  'Here  I  am!'" 

"Will  there  soon  be  a  knock?"  asked  the  little  boy,  and 
the  mother  laughed,  and  put  elder  tea  in  the  pot,  and  poured 
hot  water  upon  it. 

"A  story!  a  story!" 

"Yes,  if  a  story  would  come  of  itself;  but  that  kind  of  thing 
is  very  grand;  it  only  comes  when  it's  in  the  humor.  "Wait!" 


240  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

he  cried  all  at  once;  "here  we  have  it.  Look  you;  there's 
one  in  the  tea  pot  now." 

And  the  little  boy  looked  across  at  the  tea  pot.  The  lid 
raised  itself  more  and  more,  and  the  elder  flowers  came 
forth  from  it,  white  and  fresh;  they  shot  forth  long,  fresh 
branches  even  out  of  the  spout,  they  spread  abroad  in  all 
directions,  and  became  larger  and  larger;  there  was  the 
most  glorious  elder  bush — in  fact,  quite  a  great  tree.  It 
penetrated  even  to  the  bed,  and  thrust  the  curtains  aside; 
how  fragrant  it  was,  and  how  it  bloomed  I  And  in  the 
midst  of  the  tree  sat  an  old,  pleasant  looking  woman  in  a 
strange  dress.  It  was  quite  green,  like  the  leaves  of  the 
elder  tree,  and  bordered  with  great  white  elder  blossoms: 
one  could  not  at  once  discern  whether  this  border  was  of 
stufif  or  of  living  green  and  real  flowers. 

"What  is  the  woman's  name?''  the  little  boy  asked. 

"The  Romans  and  Greeks,"  replied  the  old  man,  "used  to 
call  her  a  Dryad;  but  we  don't  understand  that:  out  in  the 
sailors'  suburb  we  have  a  better  name  for  her;  there  she's 
called  Elder  Tree  Mother,  and  it  is  to  her  you  must  pay  at- 
tention: only  listen,  and  look  at  that  glorious  elder  tree. 

"Just  such  a  great  blooming  tree  stands  outside;  it  grew 
there  in  the  corner  of  a  poor  little  yard,  and  under  this  tree 
two  old  people  sat  one  afternoon  in  the  brightest  sunshine. 
It  was  an  old,  old  sailor,  and  his  old,  old  wife;  they  had 
great-grandchildren,  and  were  soon  to  celebrate  their  gold- 
en wedding;*  but  they  could  not  quite  make  out  the  date, 
and  the  Elder  Tree  Mother  sat  in  the  tree  and  looked  pleas- 
ed, just  as  she  does  here.  T  know  vers'-  well  when  the 
golden  wedding  is  to  be,"  said  she;  but  they  did  not  hear  it 
— they  were  talking  of  old  times. 

"  'Yes,  do  you  remember,'  said  the  old  seaman,  'when  we 
v^^ere  quite  little,  and  ran  about  and  played  together?  It 
Avas  in  the  very  same  yard  where  we  are  sitting  now,  and  we 
planted  little  twigs  in  the  yard,  and  made  a  garden.' 

"'Yes,'  replied  the  old  woman,  'I  remember  it  ver\'  well: 
we  watered  the  twigs,  and  one  of  them  was  an  elder  twig; 
that  struck  root,  shot  out  other  green  twigs,  and  has  be- 
come a  great  tree,  under  which  we  old  people  sit.' 

"'Surely,'  said  he;  'and  yonder  in  the  corner  stood  a  butt 

*Tbe  golden  wedrlinf!:  is  celebrated  in  several  countries  of  the 
Continent,  by  the  wedded  pairs  who  survive  to  see  the  fiftieth 
anniversary  of  their  marriage  day. 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  241 

of  water;  there  I  swam  my  boat:  I  had  cut  it  out  myself. 
How  it  could  sail!  But  I  certainly  soon  had  to  sail  else- 
where myself.' 

"  'But  first  we  went  to  school  and  learned  something,'  said 
she,  'and  then  we  were  confirmed;  we  both  cried,  but  in  the 
afternoon  we  went  hand  in  hand  to  the  round  tower,  and 
looked  out  into  the  wide  world,  over  Copenhagen  and 
across  the  water;  then  we  went  out  to  Fredericksburg, 
where  the  King  and  Queen  were  sailing  in  their  splendid 
boats  upon  the  canals.' 

"  'But  I  was  obliged  to  sail  elsewhere,  and  that  for  many 
yearS;  far  away  on  long  voyages.' 

"  'Yes,  I  often  cried  about  you,'  she  said.  'I  thought  you 
were  dead  and  gone,  and  lying  down  in  the  deep  waters, 
rocked  by  the  waves.  Many  a  night  I  got  up  to  look  if  the 
weathercock  was  turning.  Yes,  it  turned  indeed;  but  you 
did  not  come.  I  remember  so  clearly  how  the  rain  streamed 
down  from  the  sky.  The  man  with  the  cart^  who  fetched 
a  way  the  dust  came  to  the  place  where  I  was  in  service.  I 
went  down  with  him  to  the  dust-bin,  and  remained  standing 
in  the  doorway.  What  wretched  weather  it  was!  And  just 
as  I  stood  there  the  postman  came  up  and  gave  me  a  letter. 
It  was  from  you!  How  that  letter  had  traveled  about!  I 
tore  it  open  and  read;  I  laughed  and  wept  at  once;  I  was  so 
glad.  There  it  stood  written  that  you  were  in  the  warm 
countries  where  the  coffee-beans  grow.  You  told  me  so 
much,  and  I  read  it  all  while  the  rain  was  streaming  down, 
and  I  stood  by  the  dust-bin.  Then  somebody  came  and 
clasped  me  round  the  waist.' 

"  'And  you  gave  him  a  terrible  box  on  the  ear — one  that 
sounded!' 

"  'I  did  not  know  that  it  was  you.  You  had  arrived  just 
as  quickly  as  your  letter.  And  you  were  so  handsome;  but 
that  you  are  still.  You  had  a  large  yellow  silk  handker- 
chief in  your  pocket,  and  a  hat  on  your  head.  You  were 
so  handsome!  And,  gracious!  what  weather  it  was,  and 
how  the  streets  looked!' 

"'Then  we  were  married,'  said  he;  'do  you  remember? 
And  then  when  our  first  little  boy  came,  and  then  Marie, 
and  Neils,  and  Peter,  and  Jack,  and  Christian?' 

"  'Yes ;  and  how  all  of  these  have  grown  up  to  be  re- 
spectable people,  and  everyone  likes  them.' 

16 


242  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"  'And  their  children  have  had  Httle  ones  in  their  turn,' 
said  the  old  sailor.  'Yes,  those  are  children's  children! 
They're  of  the  right  sort.  It  was,  if  I  don't  mistake,  at  this 
very  season  of  the  year  that  we  were  married?' 

"  'Yes;  this  is  the  day  of  your  golden  wedding,'  said  the 
Elder  Tree  Mother,  putting  out  her  head  just  between  the 
two  old  people;  and  they  thought  it  was  a  neighbor  nod- 
ding to  them,  and  they  looked  at  each  other,  and  took  hold 
of  one  another's  hands. 

"Soon  afterward  came  their  children  and  grandchildren — 
these  knew  very  well  that  it  was  the  golden  wedding  day; 
they  had  already  brought  their  congratulations  in  the  morn- 
ing, but  the  old  people  had  forgotten  it,  while  they  remem- 
bered everything  right  well  that  had  happened  years  and 
years  ago. 

"And  the  elder  tree  smelt  so  sweet,  and  the  sun  that  was 
just  setting  shone  just  in  the  faces  of  the  old  couple,  so  that 
their  cheeks  looked  quite  red;  and  the  youngest  of  their 
grandchildren  danced  about  them,  and  cried  out  quite  glee- 
fully that  there  was  to  be  a  feast  this  evening,  for  they  were 
to  have  hot  potatoes;  and  the  Elder  Mother  nodded  in  the 
tree,  and  called  out  'Hurrah!'  with  all  the  rest." 

"But  that  was  not  a  story,"  said  the  little  boy,  who  had 
heard  it  told. 

"Yes,  so  you  understand  it,"  replied  the  old  man;  "but 
let  us  ask  the  Elder  Mother  about  it." 

"That  was  not  a  story,"  said  the  Elder  Mother;  but  now 
it  comes;  but  of  truth  the  strangest  stories  are  formed, 
otherwise  my  beautiful  elder  tree  could  not  have  sprouted 
forth  out  of  the  tea  pot." 

And  then  she  took  the  little  boy  out  of  bed,  and  laid  him 
upon  her  bosom,  and  the  blossoming  elder  branches  wound 
round  them,  so  they  sat  as  it  were  in  the  thickest  arbor,  and 
this  arbor  f^ew  with  them  through  the  air.  It  was  indescrib- 
ably beautiful.  Elder  Mother  all  at  once  became  a  pretty 
young  girl;  but  her  dress  was  still  of  the  green  stuf?  with 
the  white  blossoms  that  Elder  Mother  had  worn;  in  her 
bosom  she  had  a  real  elder  blossom,  and  on  her  head  a 
wreath  of  elder  flowers;  her  eyes  were  so  large  and  blue, 
they  were  beautiful  to  look  at!  She  and  the  boy  were  of 
the  same  age,  and  they  kissed  each  other  and  felt  similar 
jovs. 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  243 

Hand  in  hand  they  went  forth  out  of  the  arbor,  and  now 
they  stood  in  the  beauteous  flower  garden  of  home.  The 
father's  stafT  was  tied  up  near  the  grass  plot,  and  for  the 
little  boy  there  was  life  in  that  staff.  As  soon  as  they  seated 
themselves  upon  it,  the  polished  head  turned  into  a 
noble,  neighing  horse's  head,  with  a  flowing  mane,  and  four 
slender  legs  shot  forth ;  the  creature  was  strong  and  spirited, 
and  they  rode  at  a  gallop  round  the  grass  plot — hurrah ! 

"Now  we're  going  to  ride  many  miles  away,"  said  the 
boy;  "we'll  ride  to  the  nobleman's  estate,  where  we  went 
last  year." 

And  they  rode  round  and  round  the  grass  plot,  and  the 
little  girl,  who,  as  we  know,  was  no  one  else  but  Elder 
Mother,  kept  crying  out: 

"Now  we're  in  the  country!  Do  you  see  the  farm  house, 
with  the  great  baking  oven  standing  out  of  the  wall  like  an 
enormous  egg  by  the  way  side?  The  elder  tree  spreads  its 
branches  over  it^  and  the  cock  Avalks  about,  scratching  for 
its  hens;  look  how  he  struts!  Now  we  are  near  the  church; 
it  lies  up  on  the  hill,  under  the  great  oak  trees,  one  of  which 
is  half  dead.  Now  we  are  at  the  forge,  where  the  fire  burns, 
and  the  half-clad  men  beat  witli  their  hammers,  so  that  the 
sparks  fly  far  around.  Away,  away,  to  the  splendid  noble- 
man's seat!" 

And  everything  that  the  little  maiden  mentioned,  as  she 
sat  on  the  stick  behind  him,  flew  past  them,  and  the  little 
boy  saw  it  all,  though  they  were  only  riding  round  and 
round  the  grass  "plot.  Then  they  played  in  the  sidewalk, 
and  scratched  up  the  earth  to  make  a  little  garden;  and  she 
took  elder  flowers  out  of  her  hair  and  planted  them,  and  they 
grew  just  like  those  that  the  old  people  had  planted  when 
they  were  little,  as  has  been  already  told.  They  went  hand 
in  hand  just  as  the  old  people  had  done  in  their  childhood; 
but  not  to  the  high  tower,  or  to  the  Fredericksburg  Garden. 
No,  the  little  girl  took  hold  of  the  boy  round  the  body,  and 
then  flew  far  away  into  the  country. 

And  it  was  spring,  and  summer  came,  and  autumn,  and 
winter,  and  thousands  of  pictures  were  mirrored  in  the  boy's 
eyes  and  heart,  and  the  little  maiden  was  always  singing 
to  him. 

He  will  never  forget  that;  and  throughout  their  whole 
journey  the   elder  tree  smelt   so   sweet,   so  fragrant;    he 


244  ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES. 

noticed  the  roses  and  the  fresh  beech  trees;  but  the  elder 
tree  smelt  stronger  than  all,  for  its  flowers  hung  round  the 
little  girl's  heart,  and  he  often  leaned  against  them  as  they 
flew  onward. 

"Here  it  is  beautiful  in  spring!"  said  the  little  girl. 

And  they  stood  in  the  green  beech  wood,  where  the 
thyme  lay  spread  in  fragrance  at  their  feet,  and  the  pale  pink 
anemones  looked  glorious  among  the  vivid  green. 

"Oh,  that  it  were  always  spring  in  the  merr}'  green 
wood?" 

"Here  it  is  beautiful  in  summer!"  said  she. 

And  they  passed  by  old  c«.stles  of  knightly  days,  castles 
whose  high  walls  and  pointed  turrets  were  mirrored  in  the 
canals,  where  swans  swam  about,  and  looked  down  the  old 
shady  avenues.  In  the  fields  the  corn  waved  like  a  sea,  in 
the  ditches  yellow  and  red  flov>'ers  were  growing,  and  in 
the  hedges  wild  hops  and  blooming  convolvulus.  In  the 
evening  the  moon  rose  round  and  large,  and  the  haystacks 
in  the  meadows  smelt  sweet. 

"Here  it  is  beautiful  in  autumn!"  said  the  little  girl. 

And  the  sky  seemed  twice  as  lofty  and  twice  as  blue  as  be- 
fore, and  the  forest  was  decked  in  the  most  gorgeous  tints  of 
red,  yellow,  and  green.  The  hunting  dogs  raced  about; 
whole  flocks  of  wild  ducks  flev/  screaming  over  the  Huns' 
Graves,  on  which  bramble  bushes  twined  over  the  old 
stones.  The  sea  was  dark  blue,  and  covered  with  ships  with 
white  sails;  and  in  the  barns  sat  old  women,  girls,  and  chil- 
dren, picking  hops  into  a  large  tub;  the  young  people  sang 
songs,  and  the  older  ones  told  tales  of  magicians  and  gob- 
lins.    It  could  not  be  finer  anywhere. 

"Here  it  is  beautiful  in  winter!"  said  the  little  girl. 

And  all  the  trees  were  covered  with  hoar  frost,  so  that 
they  looked  like  white  trees  of  coral.  The  snow  crumbled 
beneath  one's  feet,  as  if  everyone  had  new  boots  on;  and  one 
shooting  star  after  another  fell  from  the  sky.  In  the  room 
the  Christmas  tree  was  lighted  up,  and  there  were  presents, 
and  there  was  happiness.  In  the  country  people's  farm- 
houses the  violin  sounded,  and  there  were  many  games  for 
apples;  and  even  the  poorest  child  said,  "It  is  beautiful  in 
winter!" 

Yes,  it  was  beautiful;  and  the  little  girl  showed  the  boy 
everything;  and  still  the  blossoming  tree  smelt  sweet,  and 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES.  245 

Still  waved  the  red  flag  with  the  white  cross,  the  flag  under 
which  the  old  seaman  had  sailed.  The  boy  became  a  youth, 
and  was  to  go  out  into  the  wide  world,  far  away  to  the  hot 
countries  where  the  coffee  grows.  But  when  they  were  to 
part,  the  little  girl  took  an  elder  blossom  from  her  breast, 
and  gave  it  to  him  to  keep.  It  was  laid  in  his  hymn  book, 
and  in  the  foreign  land,  when  he  opened  the  book,  it  was  al- 
ways at  the  place  where  the  flower  of  remembrance  lay;  and 
the  more  he  looked  at  the  flower  the  fresher  it  became,  so 
that  he  seemed,  as  it  were,  to  breathe  the  forest  air  of  home ; 
then  he  plainly  saw  the  little  girl  looking  out  with  her  clear 
blue  eyes  from  between  the  petals  of  the  flower,  and  then 
she  whispered,  "Here  it  is  beautiful  in  spring,  summer,  au- 
tumn, and  winter!"  and  hundreds  of  pictures  glided  through 
his  thoughts. 

Thus  many  years  went  by,  and  now  he  was  an  old  man, 
and  sat  with  his  old  wife  under  the  blossoming  elder  tree; 
they  were  holding  each  other  by  the  hand,  just  as  the  great- 
grandmother  and  great-grandfather  had  done  outside;  and, 
like  these,  they  spoke  of  old  times  and  of  the  golden  wed- 
ding. The  little  maiden  with  the  blue  eyes  and  with  the 
elder  blossoms  in  her  hair  sat  up  in  the  tree,  and  nodded  to 
both  of  them,  and  said,  'To-day  is  our  golden  wedding  day!'' 
and  then  she  took  two  flowers  out  of  her  hair  and  kissed 
them,  and  they  gleamed  first  like  silver  and  then  like  gold, 
and  when  she  laid  them  on  the  heads  of  the  old  people  each 
changed  into  a  golden  crown.  There  they  both  sat,  like  a 
King  and  a  Queen,  under  the  fragrant  tree  which  looked 
quite  like  an  elder  bush,  and  he  told  his  old  wife  of  the  story 
of  the  Elder  Tree  Mother,  as  it  had  been  told  to  him  when  he 
was  quite  a  little  boy,  and  they  both  thought  that  the  story 
in  many  points  resembled  their  own,  and  those  parts  they 
liked  the  best  of  all. 

"Yes,  thus  it  is!"  said  the  little  girl  in  the  tree.  "Some 
call  me  Elder  Tree  Mother,  others  the  Dryad,  but  my  real 
name  is  Remembrance;  it  is  I  who  sit  in  the  tree  that  grows 
on  and  on,  and  I  can  think  back  and  tell  stories.  Let  me 
see  if  you  have  still  your  flower." 

And  the  old  man  opened  his  hymn  book;  there  lay  the 
elder  blossom  as  fresh  as  if  it  had  only  just  been  placed 
there;  and  Remembrance  nodded,  and  the  two  old  people 
with  the  golden  crowns  on  their  heads  sat  in  the  red  evening 


243  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

sunlight,  and  they  closed  their  eyes,  and — and — the  story 
was  finished. 

The  little  boy  lay  in  his  bed  and  did  not  know  whether  he 
had  been  dreaming  or  had  heard  a  tale  told;  the  tea  pot 
stood  on  the  table,  but  no  elder  bush  was  growing  out  of  it, 
and  the  old  man  who  had  told  about  it  was  just  going  out 
of  the  door,  and  indeed  he  went. 

"How  beautiful  that  was!"  said  the  little  boy.  "Mother, 
I  have  been  in  the  hot  countries." 

"Yes,  I  can  imagine  that!"  replied  his  mother.  "When 
one  drinks  two  cups  of  hot  elder  tea  one  very  often  gets  into 
the  hot  countries!"  And  she  covered  him  up  well,  that  he 
might  not  take  cold.  "You  have  slept  well  while  I  disputed 
with  him  as  to  whether  it  was  a  story  or  a  fairy  tale." 

"And  where  is  the  Elder  Tree  Mother?"  asked  the  little 
lad. 

"She's  in  the  tea  pot,"  replied  his  mother;  "and  there  she 
may  stay." 


THE  FARMYARD  COCK  AND  THE  WEATHER 

COCK. 

There  were  two  Cocks — one  on  the  dunghill,  the  other  on 
the  roof.  Both  were  conceited;  but  which  of  the  two  ef- 
fected most?  Tell  us  your  opinion;  but  we  shall  keep  our 
own  nevertheless. 

The  poultry  yard  was  divided  by  a  partition  of  boards 
from  another  yard,  in  which  lay  a  manure  heap,  whereon  lay 
and  grew  a  great  Cucumber,  which  was  fully  conscious  of 
being  a  forcing  bed  plant. 

"That's  a  privilege  of  birth,"  the  Cucumber  said  to  herself. 
"Not  all  can  be  born  cucumbers;  there  must  be  other  kinds, 
too.  The  fowls,  the  ducks,  and  all  the  cattle  in  the  neigh- 
boring yard  are  creatures,  too.  I  now  look  up  to  the  Yard 
Cock  on  the  partition.  He  certainly  is  of  much  greater 
consequence  than  the  Weather  Cock,  who  is  so  highly- 
placed,  and  who  can't  even  creak,  much  less  crow;  and  he 
has  neither  hens  nor  chickens,  and  thinks  only  of  himself, 
and  perspires  verdigris.  But  the  Yard  Cock — he's  some- 
thing like  a  cock!     His  gait  is  like  a  dance,  his  crowing  is 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  247 

music ;  and  wherever  he  comes,  it  is  known  directly.  What 
a  trumpeter  he  is!  If  he  would  only  come  in  here!  Even 
if  he  were  to  eat  me  up,  stalk  and  all,  it  would  be  quite  a 
blissful  death,"  said  the  Cucumber. 

In  the  night  the  weather  became  very  bad.  Hens,  chick- 
ens, and  even  the  Cock  himself  sought  shelter.  The  wind 
blew  down  the  partition  between  the  two  yards  with  a 
crash ;  the  tiles  came  tumbling  down,  but  the  Weather  Cock 
sat  firm.  He  did  not  even  turn  round;  he  could  not  turn 
round,  and  yet  he  was  young  and  newly  cast,  but  steady  and 
sedate.  He  had  been  "born  old,"  and  did  not  at  all  resemble 
the  birds  that  fly  beneath  the  vault  of  heaven,  such  as  the 
sparrows  and  the  swallows.  He  despised  those,  consider- 
ing them  piping  birds  of  trifling  stature — ordinary  song 
birds.  The  pigeons,  he  allowed,  were  big  and  shining,  and 
gleamed  like  mother-o'-pearl,  and  looked  like  a  kind  of 
weather  cocks;  but  then  they  were  fat  and  stupid,  and  their 
whole  endeavor  was  to  fill  themselves  with  food. 

''Moreover,  they  are  tedious  things  to  converse  with,'' 
said  the  Weather  Cock. 

The  birds  of  passage  had  also  paid  a  visit  to  the  Weather 
Cock,  and  told  him  tales  of  foreign  lands,  of  airy  caravans, 
and  exciting  robber  stories;  of  encounters  with  birds  of 
prey;  and  that  was  interesting  enough  for  the  first  time,  but 
the  Weather  Cock  knew  that  afterward  they  always  re- 
peated themselves,  and  that  was  tedious. , 

"They  are  tedious,  and  all  is  tedious,"  he  said.  "No  one 
is  fit  to  associate  with,  and  one  and  all  of  them  are  weari- 
some and  stupid.  The  world  is  worth  nothing,"  he  cried. 
"The  whole  thing  is  a  stupidity." 

The  Weather  Cock  was  what  is  called  "used  up" ;  and  that 
quality  would  certainly  have  made  him  interesting  in  the 
eyes  of  the  Cucumber  if  she  had  known  it;  but  she  had  only 
eyes  for  the  Yard  Cock,  who  had  now  actually  come  into 
her  own  yard. 

The  wind  had  blown  down  the  plank,  but  the  storm  had 
passed  over. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that  crowing?"  the  Yard  Cock  in- 
quired of  his  hens  and  chickens.  "It  was  a  little  rough — 
the  elegance  was  wanting." 

And  hens  and  chickens  stepped  upon  the  muck  heap,  and 
the  Cock  strutted  to  and  fro  on  it  like  a  knight. 


24S  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"Garden  plant!"  he  cried  out  to  the  Cucumber;  and  in 
this  one  word  she  understood  his  deep  feeHng,  and  forgot 
that  he  was  pecking  at  her  and  eating  her  up — a  happy 
death ! 

And  the  hens  came,  and  the  chickens  came,  and  when  one 
of  them  runs  the  rest  run  also;  and  they  clucked  and  chirped, 
and  looked  at  the  Cock,  and  were  proud  that  he  was  of  their 
kind. 

"Cock-a-doodle-doo!"  he  crowed.  "The  chickens  will 
grow  up  large  fowls  if  I  make  a  noise  in  the  poultry  yard  of 
the  world!" 

And  hens  and  chickens  clucked  and  chirped,  and  the  Cock 
told  them  a  great  piece  of  news: 

"A  cock  can  lay  an  egg  I  and  do  you  know  what  there  is  in 
that  egg?  In  that  egg  lies  a  basilisk.  No  one  can  stand  the 
sight  of  a  basilisk.  Men  know  that,  and  now  you  know  it 
too — you  know  what  is  in  me,  and  what  a  Cock  of  the  world 
I  am." 

And  with  this  the  Yard  Cock  flapped  his  wings,  and  made 
his  comb  swell  up,  and  crowed  again;  and  all  of  them  shud- 
dered— all  the  hens  and  the  chickens;  but  they  were  proud 
that  one  of  their  people  should  be  such  a  cock  of  the  world. 
They  clucked  and  chirped,  so  that  the  Weather  Cock  heard 
it;  and  he  heard  it,  but  he  never  stirred. 

"It's  all  stupid  stufif!"  said  a  voice  within  the  Weather 
Cock.  "The  Yard  Cock  does  not  lay  eggs,  and  I  am  too 
lazy  to  lay  any.  If  I  liked,  I  could  lay  a  wind  egg;  but  the 
world  is  not  worth  a  wind  egg.  And  now  I  don't  like  even 
to  sit  here  any  longer." 

And  with  this  the  Weather  Cock  broke  off;  but  he  did  not 
kill  the  Yard  Cock,  though  he  intended  to  do  so,  as  the  hens 
declared.  And  what  does  the  moral  say? — "Better  to  crow 
than  to  be  'used  up'  and  break  off." 


THE  OLD  GRAVESTONE. 

In  a  little  provincial  town,  in  the  time  of  the  year  when 
the  people  say  "the  evenings  are  drawing  in,"  there  was  one 
evening  quite  a  social  gathering  in  the  home  of  a  father  of  a 
family.    The  weather  was  still  mild  and  warm.   The  lamp 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES,  249 

gleamed  on  the  table;  the  long  curtains  hung  down  in  folds 
before  the  open  windows,  by  which  stood  many  flower  pots; 
and  outside,  beneath  the  dark  blue  sky,  was  the  most  beauti- 
ful moonshine.  But  they  were  not  talking  about  this.  They 
were  talking  about  the  old  great  stone  which  lay  below  in 
the  courtyard,  close  by  the  kitchen  door,  and  on  which  the 
maids  often  laid  the  clean  copper  kitchen  utensils  that  they 
might  dry  in  the  sun,  and  where  the  children  were  fond  of 
playing.    It  was,  in  fact,  an  old  gravestone. 

"Yes,"  said  the  master  of  the  house,  "I  believe  the  stone 
comes  from  the  old  convent  churchyard;  for  from  the 
church  yonder,  the  pulpit,  the  memorial  boards,  and  the 
gravestones  were  sold.  My  father  bought  the  latter,  and 
they  were  cut  in  two  to  be  used  as  paving  stones;  but  that 
old  stone  was  kept  back,  and  has  been  lying  in  the  court- 
yard ever  since." 

"One  can  very  well  see  that  it  is  a  gravestone,"  observed 
the  eldest  of  the  children;  "we  can  still  decipher  on  it  an 
hour-glass  and  a  piece  of  an  angel ;  but  the  inscription  which 
stood  below  is  quite  effaced,  except  that  you  may  read  the 
name  Preben,  and  a  great  S  close  behind  it,  and  a  little  far- 
ther down  the  name  of  Martha.  But  nothing  more  can  be 
distinguished,  and  even  that  is  only  plain  when  it  has  been 
raining,  or  when  we  have  washed  the  stone." 

''On  my  word,  that  must  be  the  gravestone  of  Preben 
Schwane  and  his  wife !" 

These  words  were  spoken  by  a  man;  so  old  that  he  might 
well  have  been  the  grandfather  of  all  who  were  present  in 
the  room. 

"Yes,  they  were  one  of  the  last  pairs  who  were  buried  in 
the  old  churchyard  of  the  convent.  They  were  an  honest 
old  couple.  I  can  remember  them  from  the  days  of  my  boy- 
hood. Everyone  knew  them,  everyone  esteemed  them. 
They  were  the  oldest  pair  here  in  the  town.  The  people  de- 
clared th"ey  had  more  than  a  tubful  of  gold;  and  yet  they 
went  about  very  plainly  dressed,  in  the  coarsest  stuffs,  but 
always  with  splendidly  clean  linen.  They  were  a  fine  old 
pair,  Preben  and  Martha!  When  both  of  them  sat  on  the 
bench  at  the  top  of  the  steep  stone  stairs  in  front  of  the 
house,  with  the  old  linden  tree  spreading  its  branches  above 
them,  and  nodded  at  one  in  their  kind,  gentle  way,  it  seemed 
quite  to  do  one  good.    They  were  very  kind  to  the  poor; 


250  ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES. 

they  fed  them  and  clothed  them;  and  there  was  judgment 
in  their  benevolence  and  true  Christianity.  The  old  wo- 
man died  first;  that  day  is  still  quite  clear  before  my  mind. 
I  was  a  little  boy,  and  had  accompanied  my  father  over 
there,  and  we  were  just  there  when  she  fell  asleep.  The 
old  man  was  very  much  moved  and  wept  like  a  child.  The 
corpse  lay  in  the  room  next  to  the  one  where  we  sat;  and 
he  spoke  to  my  father  and  to  a  few  neighbors  who  were 
there,  and  said  how  lonely  it  would  be  now  in  his  house,  and 
how  good  and  faithful  she  (his  dead  wife)  had  been,  how 
many  years  they  had  wandered  together  through  life,  and 
how  it  came  about  that  they  came  to  know  each  other  and 
to  fall  in  love.  I  was,  as  I  have  told  you,  a  boy,  and  only 
stood  by  and  listened  to  what  the  others  said;  but  it  filled 
me  with  quite  a  strange  emotion  to  listen  to  the  old  man, 
and  to  watch  how  his  cheeks  gradually  flushed  red  when  he 
spoke  of  the  days  of  their  courtship,  and  how  beautiful  she 
was,  how  many  little  innocent  pretexts  he  had  invented  to 
meet  her.  And  then  he  talked  of  the  wedding  day  and  his 
eyes  gleamed;  he  seemed  to  talk  himself  back  into  that  time 
of  joy.  And  yet  she  was  lying  in  the  next  room — dead — 
an  old  woman;  and  he  was  an  old  man,  speaking  of  the  past 
days  of  hope!  Yes,  yes,  thus  it  is!  Then  I  was  but  a  child, 
and  now  I  am  old — as  old  as  Preben  Schwane  was  then. 
Time  passes  away,  and  all  things  change.  I  can  very  well 
remember  the  day  when  she  was  buried,  and  how  Preben 
Schwane  walked  close  behind  the  cofiin.  A  few  years  be- 
fore, the  couple  had  caused  their  gravestone  to  be  prepared, 
and  their  names  to  be  engraved  on  it,  with  the  inscription, 
all  but  the  date.  In  the  evening  the  stone  was  taken  to  the 
churchyard,  and  laid  over  the  grave;  and  the  year  afterward 
it  was  taken  up,  that  old  Preben  Schwane  might  be  laid  to 
rest  beside  his  wife.  They  did  not  leave  behind  them  any- 
thing like  the  wealth  people  had  attributed  to  them;  what 
there  was  went  to  families  distantly  related  to  them — to 
people  of  whom,  until  then,  one  had  known  nothing.  The 
old  wooden  house,  with  the  seat  at  the  top  of  the  steps,  be- 
neath the  lime  tree,  was  taken  down  by  the  corporation;  It 
was  too  old  and  rotten  to  be  left  standing.  Afterward, 
when  the  same  fate  befell  the  convent  church,  and  the 
graveyard  was  leveled,  Preben  and  Martha's  tombstone  was 
sold,  like  everything  else,  to  anyone  who  would  buy  it,  and 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  251 

that  is  how  it  has  happened  that  this  stone  was  not  hewn  in 
two,  as  many  another  has  been,  but  that  it  still  lies  below  in 
the  yard  as  a  scouring  bench  for  the  maids  and  a  plaything 
for  the  children.  The  high  road  now  goes  over  the  resting 
place  of  old  Preben  and  his  wife.  No  one  thinks  of  them 
any  more." 

And  the  old  man,  who  had  told  all  this,  shook  his  head 
scornfully. 

"Forgotten!     Everything  will  be  forgotten!''  he  said. 

And  then  they  spoke  in  the  room  of  other  things ;  but  the 
youngest  child,  a  boy  with  great  serious  eyes,  mounted  up 
on  a  chair  behind  the  window-curtains,  and  looked  out  into 
the  yard,  where  the  moon  was  pouring  its  radiance  over  the 
old  stone — the  old  stone  that  had  always  appeared  to  him 
so  tame  and  flat,  but  which  lay  there  now  Hke  a  great  leaf  of 
a  book  of  chronicles.  All  that  the  boy  had  heard  about  old 
Preben  and  his  wife  seemed  concentrated  in  the  stone;  and 
he  gazed  at  it,  and  looked  at  the  pure,  bright  moon  and  up 
into  the  clear  air,  and  it  seemed  as  though  the  countenance 
of  the  Creator  was  beaming  over  His  world. 

"Forgotten!  Everything  will  be  forgotten!"  was  repeated 
in  the  room. 

But  in  that  moment  an  invisible  angel  kissed  the  boy's 
forehead,  and  whispered  to  him: 

"Preserve  the  seed  corn  that  has  been  entrusted  to  thee, 
that  it  may  bear  fruit.  Guard  it  well!  Through  thee,  my 
child,  the  obliterated  inscription  on  the  old  tombstone  shall 
be  chronicled  in  golden  letters  to  future  generations!  The 
old  pair  shall  wander  again  arm  in  arm  through  the  street, 
and  smile,  and  sit  with  their  fresh,  healthy  faces  under  the 
lime  tree  on  the  bench  by  the  steep  stairs,  and  nod  at  rich 
and  poor.  The  seed  corn  of  this  hour  shall  ripen  in  the 
course  of  time  to  a  blooming  poem.  The  beautiful  and  the 
good  shall  not  be  forgotten;  it  shall  live  on  in  legend  and  in 
song," 


THE  OLD  BACHELOR'S  NIGHTCAP. 

There  is  a  street  in  Copenhagen  that  has  this  strange  name 
— "Hysken  Strade."  Whence  comes  this  name  and  what  is 
its  meaning?     It  is  said  to  be  German;  but  injustice  has 


252  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY   TALES. 

been  done  to  the  Germans  in  this  matter,  for  it  would  have 
had  to  be  "Hauschen,"  and  not  "Hysken."  For  here  stood, 
once  upon  a  time,  and  indeed  for  a  great  many  years,  a  few 
httle  houses,  which  were  principally  nothing  more  than 
mere  wooden  booths,  just  as  we  see  now  in  the  market 
places  at  fair  time.  They  were,  perhaps,  a  little  larger,  and 
had  windows;  but  the  panes  consisted  of  horn  or  bladder, 
for  glass  was  then  too  expensive  to  be  used  in  every  house. 
But  then  we  are  speaking  of  a  long  time  ago — so  long  since, 
that  grandfather  and  great-grandfather,  when  they  talked 
about  them,  used  to  speak  of  them  as  "the  old  times" — in 
fact,  it  is  several  centuries  ago. 

The  rich  merchants  in  Bremen  and  Lubeck  carried  on 
trade  with  Copenhagen.  They  did  not  reside  in  the  town 
themselves,  but  sent  their  clerks,  who  lived  in  the  wooden 
booths  in  the  Hauschen  Street,  and  sold  beer  and  spices. 
The  German  beer  was  good,  and  there  were  many  kinds  of 
it,  as  there  were,  for  instance,  Bremen,  and  Prussinger,  and 
Sous  beer,  and  even  Brunswick  mumm;  and  quantities 
of  spices  were  sold — saffron,  and  aniseed,  and  ginger,  and 
especially  pepper.  Yes,  pepper  was  the  chief  article  here; 
and  so  it  happened  that  the  German  clerks  got  the  nickname 
"pepper  gentry";  and  there  was  a  condition  made  with  them 
in  Lubeck  and  in  Bremen,  that  they  would  not  marry  at 
Copenhagen,  and  man}^  of  them  became  very  old.  They 
had  to  care  for  themselves,  and  to  look  after  their  own  com- 
forts, and  to  put  out  their  own  fires — when  they  had  any; 
and  some  of  them  became  very  solitary  old  boys,  with  ec- 
centric ideas  and  eccentric  habits.  From  them  all  unmar- 
ried men,  who  have  attained  a  certain  age,  are  called  in 
Denmark  "pepper  gentry";  and  this  must  be  understood  by 
all  who  wish  to  comprehend  this  history. 

"The  "pepper  gentleman"  becomes  a  butt  for  ridicule,  and 
is  continually  told  that  he  ought  to  put  on  his  nightcap,  and 
draw  it  down  over  his  eyes,  and  do  nothing  but  sleep.  The 
boys  sing: 

Cut,  cut  wood, 

Poor  bachelor  so  good. 

Go,  take  your  nightcap,  go  to  rest, 

For  'tis  the  nightcap  suits  you  best! 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  253 

Yes,  that's  what  they  sing  about  the  "pepperer" — thus  they 
make  game  of  the  poor  bachelor  and  his  nightcap,  and  turn 
it  into  ridicule,  just  because  they  know  very  little  about 
either.  Ah,  that  kind  of  nightcap  no  one  should  wish  to 
earn!     And  why  not?     We  shall  hear. 

In  the  old  times  the  "Housekin  Street"  was  not  paved, 
and  the  people  stumbled  out  of  one  hole  into  another,  as  in 
a  neglected  byway;  and  it  was  narrow,  too.  The  booths 
leaned  side  by  side,  and  stood  so  close  together  that  in  the 
summer  time  a  sail  was  often  stretched  from  one  booth  to  its 
opposite  neighbor,  on  which  occasion  the  fragrance  of  pep- 
per, saffron,  and  ginger  became  doubly  powerful.  Behind 
the  counters  young  men  were  seldom  seen.  The  clerks 
were  generally  old  boys ;  but  they  did  not  look  like  what  we 
should  fancy  them,  namely,  with  wig,  and  nightcap,  and 
plush  small  clothes,  and  with  waistcoat  and  coat  buttoned 
up  to  the  chin.  No,  grandfather's  great-grandfather  may 
look  like  that,  and  has  been  thus  portrayed,  but  the  "pepper 
gentry"  had  no  superfluous  means,  and  accordingly  did  not 
have  their  portraits  taken ;  though,  indeed,  it  would  be  inter- 
esting now  to  have  a  picture  of  one  of  them,  as  he  stood  be- 
hind the  counter  or  went  to  church  on  holy  days.  His  hat 
was  high-crowned  and  broad-brimmed,  and  sometimes  one 
of  the  youngest  clerks  would  mount  a  feather.  The  woolen 
shirt  was  hidden  behind  a  broad,  clean  collar,  the  close 
jacket  was  buttoned  up  to  the  chin,  and  the  cloak  hung 
loose  over  it;  and  the  trousers  were  tucked  into  the  broad- 
toed  shoes,  for  the  clerks  did  not  wear  stockings.  In  their 
girdles  they  sported  a  dinner  knife  and  spoon,  and  a  larger 
knife  was  placed  there  also  for  the  defense  of  the  owner; 
and  this  weapon  was  often  very  necessary.  Just  so  was  An- 
thony, one  of  the  oldest  of  the  clerks,  clad  on  high  days  and 
holy  days,  except  that,  instead  of  a  high-crowned  hat,  he 
wore  a  low  bonnet,  and  under  it  a  knitted  cap  (a  regular 
nightcap),  to  which  he  had  grown  so  accustomed  that  it 
was  always  on  his  head;  and  he  had  two  of  them — night- 
caps, of  course.  The  old  fellow  was  a  subject  for  a  painter. 
He  was  as  thin  as  a  lath,  had  wrinkles  clustering  round  his 
eyes  and  mouth,  and  long,  bony  fingers,  and  bushy  gray 
eyebrows;  over  the  left  eye  hung  quite  a  tuft  of  hair,  and 
that  did  not  look  very  handsome,  though  it  made  him  very 
noticeable.     People  knew  that  he  came  from  Bremen;  but 


254  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

that  was  not  his  native  place,  though  his  master  lived  there. 
His  own  native  place  was  in  Thiiringia,  the  town  of  Eise- 
nach, close  by  the  Wartburg.  Old  Anthony  did  not  speak 
much  of  this,  but  he  thought  of  it  all  the  more. 

The  old  clerks  of  the  Hauschen  Street  did  not  often  come 
together.  Each  one  remained  in  his  booth,  which  was 
closed  early  in  the  evening;  and  then  it  looked  dark  enough 
in  the  street;  only  a  faint  glimmer  of  light  forced  its  way 
through  the  little  horn  pane  in  the  roof;  and  in  the  booth 
sat,  generally  on  his  bed,  the  old  bachelor,  his  German  hymn 
book  in  his  hand,  singing  an  evening  psalm  in  a  low  voice ; 
or  he  went  about  in  the  booth  till  late  into  the  night,  and 
busied  himself  about  all  sorts  of  things.  It  was  certainly 
not  an  amusing  life.  To  be  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land  is 
a  bitter  lot;  nobody  cares  for  you,  unless  you  happen  to  get 
in  anybody's  way. 

Often  when  it  was  dark  night  outside,  with  snow  and  rain, 
the  place  looked  very  gloomy  and  lonely.  No  lamps  were 
to  be  seen,  with  the  exception  of  one  solitary  light  hanging 
before  the  picture  of  the  Virgin  that  was  fastened  against 
the  wall.  The  plash  of  the  water  against  the  neighboring 
rampart  at  the  castle  wharf  could  be  plainly  heard.  Such 
evenings  are  long  and  dreary,  unless  people  devise  some 
employment  for  themselves.  There  is  not  always  packing 
or  unpacking  to  do,  nor  can  the  scales  be  polished  or  paper 
bags  be  made  continually;  and,  failing  these,  people  should 
devise  other  employment  for  themselves.  And  that  is  just 
what  old  Anthony  did;  for  he  used  to  mend  his  clothes  and 
put  pieces  on  his  boots.  When  he  at  last  sought  his  couch, 
he  used  from  habit  to  keep  his  nightcap  on.  He  drew  it 
down  a  little  closer;  but  soon  he  would  push  it  up  again, 
to  see  if  the  light  had  been  properly  extinguished.  He 
would  touch  it,  press  the  wick  together,  and  then  lie  down 
on  the  other  side,  and  draw  his  nightcap  down  again;  but 
then  a  doubt  would  come  upon  him,  if  every  coal  in  the  little 
fire-pan  below  had  been  properly  deadened  and  put  out — 
a  tiny  spark  might  have  been  left  burning,  and  might  set 
fire  to  something  and  cause  damage.  And  therefore  he 
rose  from  his  bed,  and  crept  down  the  ladder,  for  it  could 
scarcely  be  called  a  stair.  And  when  he  came  to  the  fire- 
pan, not  a  spark  was  to  be  discovered,  and  he  might  just  go 
back  again.     But  often,  when  he  had  gone  half  of  the  way 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  255 

back,  it  would  occur  to  him  that  the  shutters  might  not  be 
securely  fastened;  yes,  then  his  thin  legs  must  carry  him 
downstairs  once  more.  He  was  cold,  and  his  teeth  chat- 
tered in  his  mouth  when  he  crept  back  again  to  bed;  for  the 
cold  seems  to  become  doubly  severe  when  it  knows  it  can- 
not stay  much  longer.  He  drew  up  his  coverlet  closer 
around  him,  and  pulled  down  the  nightcap  lower  over  his 
brows,  and  turned  his  thoughts  away  from  trade  and  from 
the  labors  of  the  day.  But  that  did  not  procure  him  agree- 
able entertainment;  for  now  old  thoughts  came  and  put  up 
their  curtains,  and  these  curtains  have  sometimes  pins  in 
them,  with  which  one  pricks  one's  self,  and  one  cries  out 
"Oh!"  and  they  prick  into  one's  flesh  and  burn  so,  that  the 
tears  sometimes  come  into  one's  eyes;  and  that  often  hap- 
pened to  old  Anthon}^ — hot  tears.  The  largest  pearls 
streamed  forth,  and  fell  on  the  coverlet  or  on  the  floor,  and 
then  they  sounded  as  if  one  of  his  heart  strings  had  broken. 
Sometimes  again  they  seemed  to  rise  up  in  flame,  illuminat- 
ing a  picture  of  life  that  never  faded  out  of  his  heart.  If  he 
then  dried  his  eyes  in  his  nightcap,  the  tear  and  the  picture 
were  indeed  crushed,  but  the  source  of  the  tears  remained, 
and  welled  up  afresh  from  his  heart.  The  pictures  did  not 
comiC  up  in  the  order  in  which  the  scenes  had  occurred  in 
reality,  for  very  often  the  most  painful  would  come  to- 
gether; then  again  the  most  joyful  would  come,  but  these 
had  the  deepest  shadows  of  all. 

The  beech  woods  of  Denmark  are  acknowledged  to  be 
fine,  but  the  woods  of  Thviringia  arose  far  more  beautiful 
in  the  eyes  of  Anthony.  More  mighty  and  more  venerable 
seemed  to  him  the  old  oaks  around  the  proud  knightly  cas- 
tle, where  the  creeping  plants  hung  down  over  the  stony 
blocks  of  the  rock;  sweeter  there  bloomed  the  flowers  of 
the  apple  tree  than  in  the  Danish  land.  This  he  remem-  ^ 
bered  very  vividly.  A  glittering  tear  rolled  down  over  his 
cheek;  and  in  this  tear  he  could  plainly  see  two  children 
playing — a  boy  and  a  girl.  The  boy  had  red  cheeks,  and 
yellow,  curling  hair,  and  honest  blue  eyes.  He  was  the  son 
of  the  merchant  Anthony — it  was  himself.  The  little  girl 
had  brown  eyes  and  black  hair,  and  had  a  bright,  clever 
look.  She  was  the  burgomaster's  daughter  Molly.  The 
two  were  playing  with  an  apple.  They  shook  the  apple, 
and  heard  the  pips  rattling  in  it.    Then  they  cut  the  apple 


256  ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES. 

in  two,  and  each  of  them  took  a  half;  they  divided  even 
the  pips,  and  ate  them  all  but  one,  which  the  little  girl  pro- 
posed that  they  should  lay  in  the  earth. 

"Then  you  shall  see,"  she  said,  "what  will  come  out.  It 
will  be  something-  you  don't  at  all  expect.  A  whole  apple 
tree  will  come  out,  but  not  directly." 

And  she  put  the  pip  in  a  flower  pot,  and  both  were  very 
busy  and  eager  about  it.  The  boy  made  a  hole  in  the  earth 
with  his  finger,  and  the  little  girl  dropped  the  pip  in  it,  and 
they  both  covered  it  with  earth. 

"Now,  you  must  not  take  it  out  to-morrow  to  see  if  it  has 
struck  root,"  said  Molly.  "That  won't  do  at  all.  I  did  it 
with  my  flowers;  but  only  twice.  I  wanted  to  see  if  they 
were  growing — and  I  didn't  know  any  better  then — and 
the  plants  withered." 

Anthony  took  away  the  flower  pot,  and  every  morning, 
the  whole  winter  through,  he  looked  at  it;  but  nothing  was 
to  be  seen  but  the  black  earth.  At  length,  however,  the 
spring  came,  and  the  sun  shone  warm  again;  and  the  two 
little  green  leaves  came  up  out  of  the  pot. 

"Those  are  for  me  and  IMolly,"  said  the  boy.  "That's 
beautiful — that's  marvelously  beautiful !" 

Soon  a  third  leaf  made  its  appearance.  Whom  did  that 
represent?  Yes,  and  there  came  another,  and  yet  another. 
Day  by  day  and  week  by  week  they  grew  larger,  and  the 
plant  began  to  take  the  form  of  a  real  tree.  And  all  this 
was  now  mirrored  in  a  single  tear,  which  was  wiped  away 
and  disappeared;  but  it  might  come  again  from  its  source 
in  the  heart  of  old  Anthony. 

In  the  neig-hborhood  of  Eisenach  a  row  of  stony  moun- 
tains rises  up.  One  of  these  mountains  is  round  in  outline, 
and  lifts  itself  above  the  rest,  naked  and  without  tree,  bush, 
or  grass.  It  is  called  the  V^enus-Mount.  In  this  mountain 
dwells  Lady  Venus,  one  of  the  deities  of  the  heathen  times. 
She  is  also  called  Lady  Holle;  and  every  child  in  and 
around  Eisenach  has  heard  about  her.  She  it  was  who 
lured  Tannhauser,  the  noble  knight  and  minstrel,  from  the 
circle  of  the  singers  of  the  Wartburg  into  her  mountain. 

Little  Mollv  and  Anthony  often  stood  by  this  mountain; 
and  once  Molly  said: 

"You  may  knock  and  say,  'Lady  Holle,  open  the  door — 
Tannhauser  is  here!'" 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES.  257 

But  Anthony  did  not  dare.  Molly,  however,  did  it, 
though  she  only  said  the  words  "Lady  Holle,  Lady  Holle!" 
aloud  and  distinctly;  the  rest  she  muttered  so  indistinctly 
that  Anthony  felt  convinced  she  had  not  really  said  any- 
thing; and  yet  she  looked  as  bold  and  saucy  as  possible — 
as  saucy  as  when  she  sometimes  came  round  him  with  other 
little  girls  in  the  garden,  and  all  wanted  to  kiss  him  because 
he  did  not  like  to  be  kissed  and  tried  to  keep  them  off;  and 
she  was  the  only  one  who  dared  to  kiss  him  in  spite  of  his 
resistance, 

"I  may  kiss  him!"  she  would  say  proudly. 

That  was  her  vanity;  and  Anthony  submitted,  and 
thought  no  more  about  it. 

How  charming  and  how  teasing  Molly  was.  It  was  said 
that  Lady  Holle  in  the  mountain  was  beautiful  also,  but  that 
her  beauty  was  like  that  of  a  tempting  fiend.  The  greatest 
beauty  and  grace  was  possessed  by  Saint  Elizabeth,  the 
patron  of  the  country,  the  pious  Princess  of  Thuringia, 
whose  good  actions  have  been  immortalized  in  many  places 
in  legends  and  stories.  In  the  chapel  her  picture  hung,  sur- 
rounded by  silver  lamps;  but  it  was  not  in  the  least  like 
Molly. 

The  apple  tree  which  the  two  children  had  planted  grew 
year  by  year,  and  became  taller  and  taller — so  tall,  that  it 
had  to  be  transplanted  into  the  garden,  into  the  fresh  air, 
where  the  dew  fell  and  the  sun  shone  warm.  And  the  tree 
developed  itself  strongly  so  that  it  could  resist  the  winter. 
And  it  seemed  as  if,  after  the  rigor  of  the  cold  season  was 
past,  it  put  forth  blossoms  in  spring  for  very  joy.  In  the 
autumn  it  brought  two  apples — one  for  Molly  and  one  for 
Anthony.     It  could  not  well  have  produced  less. 

The  tree  had  grown  apace,  and  Molly  grew  like  the  tree. 
She  was  as  fresh  as  an  apple  blossom;  but  x^nthony  was 
not  long  to  behold  this  flower.  All  things  change!  Molly's 
father  left  his  old  home,  and  Alolly  went  with  him,  far 
away.  Yes,  in  our  time  steam  has  made  the  journey  they 
took  a  matter  of  a  few  hours,  but  then  more  than  a  day  and 
a  night  were  necessary  to  go  so  far  eastward  from  Eisenach 
to  the  farthest  border  of  Thuringia,  to  the  city  which  is  still 
called  Weimar. 

And  Molly  wept,  and  Anthony  wept;  but  all  their  tears 
melted  into  one,  and  this  tear  had  the  rosy,  ch^rvfmf^JuuA 
n 


LIBRARY 

OF 

WASHINGTON 

UNlVER-l  5  V 
ST.  LOUIS  ^'>&: 


258  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

of  joy.  For  Molly  told  him  she  loved  him — loved  him  more 
than  all  the  splendors  of  Weimar. 

One,  two,  three  years  went  by,  and  during  this  period 
two  letters  were  received.  One  came  by  a  carrier,  and  a 
traveler  brought  the  other.  The  way  was  long  and  diffi- 
cult, and  passed  through  many  windings  by  towns  and  vil- 
lages. 

Often  had  Molly  and  Anthony  heard  of  Tristram  and 
Iseult,  and  often  had  the  boy  applied  the  story  to  himself 
and  Molly,  though  the  name  Tristram  was  said  to  mean 
"born  in  tribulation;"  and  that  did  not  apply  to  Anthony, 
nor  would  he  ever  be  able  to  think,  like  Tristram,  "She  has 
forgotten  me."  But,  indeed,  Iseult  did  not  forget  her  faith- 
ful knight;  and  when  both  were  laid  to  rest  in  the  earth, 
one  on  each  side  of  the  church,  the  linden  trees  grew  from 
their  graves  over  the  church  roof,  and  there  encountered 
each  other  in  bloom;  Anthony  thought  that  was  beautiful 
but  mournful;  but  it  could  not  become  mournful  be- 
tween him  and  Molly;  and  he  whistled  a  song  of  the  old 
minnesinger,  Walter  of  the  Vogelvede: 

Under  the  lindens 
Upon  the  heath. 

And  especially  that  passage  appeared  charming  to  him: 

From  the  forest,  down  in  the  vale, 
Sang  her  sweet  song  the  nightingale. 

This  song  was  often  in  his  mouth,  and  he  sang  and 
whistled  it  in  the  moonlight  night,  when  he  rode  along  the 
deep  hollow  way  on  horseback  to  get  to  Weimar  and  visit 
Molly.  He  wished  to  come  unexpectedly,  and  he  came  un- 
expectedly. 

He  was  made  welcome  with  full  goblets  of  wine,  with 
jovial  company,  fine  company,  and  a  pretty  room  and  a 
good  bed  were  provided  for  him;  and  yet  his  reception  v-as 
not  what  he  had  dreamed  and  fancied  it  would  be.  He 
could  not  understand  himself — he  could  not  understand  the 
others;  but  we  can  understand  it.  One  may  be  admitted 
into  a  house  and  associate  with  a  family  without  becoming 
one  of  them.     One  may  converse  together  as  one  would 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  259 

converse  in  a  post-carriage,  and  know  one  another  as  peo- 
ple know  each  other  on  a  journey,  each  incommoding  the 
other  and  wishing  that  either  one's  self  or  the  good  neigh- 
bor were  away.  Yes,  that  was  the  kind  of  thing  Anthony 
felt. 

"I  am  an  honest  girl,"  said  Molly,  "and  I  myself  will  tell 
you  what  it  is.  Much  has  changed  since  we  were  children 
together — changed  inwardly  and  outwardly.  Habit  and 
will  have  no  power  over  our  hearts.  Anthony,  I  should  not 
like  to  have  an  enemy  in  you,  now  that  I  shall  soon  be  far 
away  from  here.  Believe  me,  I  entertain  the  best  wishes  for 
you;  but  to  feel  for  you  what  I  know  now  one  may  feel  for 
a  man,  has  never  been  the  case  with  me.  You  must  recon- 
cile yourself  to  this.    Farewell,  Anthony." 

And  Anthony  bade  her  farewell.  No  tear  came  into  his 
eye,  but  he  felt  that  he  was  no  longer  Molly's  friend.  Hot 
iron  and  cold  iron  alike  take  the  skin  from  our  lips,  and 
we  have  the  same  feeling  when  we  kiss  it;  and  he  kissed 
himself  into  hatred  as  into  love. 

Within  twenty-four  hours  Anthony  was  back  in  Eisenach, 
though  certainly  the  horse  on  which  he  rode  was  ruined. 

"What  matter!"  he  said;  "I  am  ruined,  too;  and  I  will 
destroy  everything  that  can  remind  me  of  her,  or  of  Lady 
Holle,  or  Venus,  the  heathen  woman!  I  will  break  down 
the  apple  tree  and  tear  it  up  by  the  roots,  so  that  it  shall 
never  bear  flower  or  fruit  more!" 

But  the  apple  tree  was  not  broken  down,  though  he 
himself  was  broken  down,  and  bound  on  a  couch  by  fever. 
What  was  it  that  raised  him  up  again?  A  medicine  was 
presented  to  him  which  had  strength  to  do  this — the  bitter- 
est of  medicines,  that  shakes  up  body  and  spirit  together. 
Anthony's  father  ceased  to  be  the  richest  of  merchants. 
Heavy  days — days  of  trial — were  at  the  door;  misfortune 
came  rolling  into  the  house  like  great  waves  of  the  sea. 
The  father  became  a  poor  man.  Sorrow  and  sufifering  took 
away  his  strength.  Then  Anthony  had  to  think  of  some- 
thing else  besides  nursing  his  love  sorrows  and  his  anger 
against  Molly.  He  had  to  take  his  father's  place — to  give 
orders,  to  help,  to  act  energetically,  and  at  last  to  go  out 
into  the  world  and  earn  his  bread. 

Anthony  went  to  Bremen.    There  he  learned  what  pov- 


260  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

erty  and  hard  living  meant;  and  these  sometimes  make  the 
heart  hard,  and  sometimes  soften  it,  even  too  much. 

How  different  the  world  was,  and  how  different  the  peo- 
ple were  from  what  he  had  supposed  them  to  be  in  his 
childhood!  What  were  the  minnesinger's  songs  to  him 
now? — an  echo,  a  vanishing  sound!  Yes,  that  is  what  he 
thought  sometimes;  but  again  the  songs  would  sound  in 
his  soul,  and  his  heart  became  gentle. 

"God's  will  is  best!"  he  would  say  then,  "It  was  well 
that  I  was  not  permitted  to  keep  Molly's  heart — that  she  did 
not  remain  true  to  me.  What  would  it  have  led  to  now, 
when  fortune  has  turned  away  from  me?  She  quitted  me 
before  she  knew  of  this  loss  of  prosperity,  or  had  any  no- 
tion of  what  awaited  me.  That  was  a  mercy  of  Providence 
toward  me.  Everything  has  happened  for  the  best.  It  was 
not  her  fault — and  I  have  been  so  bitter,  and  have  shown 
so  much  rancor  toward  her." 

And  years  went  by.  Anthony's  father  was  dead,  and 
strangers  lived  in  the  old  house.  But  Anthony  was  destined 
to  see  it  again.  His  rich  employer  sent  him  on  commercial 
journeys  and  his  duty  led  him  into  his  native  town  of 
Eisenach.  The  old  Wartburg  stood  unchanged  on  the 
mountain,  with  "the  monk  and  the  nun"  hewn  out  in  stone. 
The  great  oaks  gave  to  the  scene  the  outlines  it  had  pos- 
sessed in  his  childish  days.  The  Venus  Mount  glimmered 
gray  and  naked  over  the  valley.  He  would  have  been  glad 
to  cry,  "Lady  Holle,  Lady  Holle,  unlock  the  door,  and  I 
shall  enter  and  remain  in  m}-  native  earth!" 

That  was  a  sinful  thought,  and  he  blessed  himself  to  drive 
it  away.  Then  a  little  bird  out  of  the  thicket  sang  clearly, 
and  the  old  minne-song  came  into  his  mind: 

From  the  forest  down  in  the  vale. 
Sang  her  sweet  song  the  nightingale. 

And  here  in  the  town  of  his  childhood,  which  he  thus  saw 
again  through  tears,  much  came  back  into  his  remem- 
brance. The  paternal  house  stood  as  in  the  old  times;  but 
the  garden  was  altered,  and  a  field-path  led  over  a  portion 
of  the  old  ground,  and  the  apple  tree  that  he  had  not  broken 
down  stood  there,  but  outside  the  garden,  on  the  farther  side 
cf  the  path.    But  the  sun  threw  its  rays  on  the  apple  tree  as 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  261 

in  old  days,  the  dew  descended  gently  upon  it  as  then,  and 
it  bore  such  a  burden  of  fruit  that  the  branches  were  bent 
down  toward  the  earth. 

"That  flourishes!"    he  said.    "The  tree  can  grow!" 

■Nevertheless,  one  of  the  branches  of  the  tree  was  broken. 
Mischievous  hands  had  torn  it  down  toward  the  ground; 
fo-r  now  the  tree  stood  by  the  public  way. 

"They  break  its  blossoms  off  without  a  feeling  of  thank- 
fulness— they  steal  its  fruit  and  break  the  branches.  One 
might  say  of  the  tree,  as  has  been  said  of  some  men — 'It 
was  not  sung  at  his  cradle  that  it  should  come  thus.'  How 
brightly  its  history  began,  and  what  has  it  come  to?  For- 
saken and  forgotten — a  garden  tree  by  the  hedge,  in  the 
field,  and  on  the  public  way!  There  it  stands  unprotected, 
plundered,  and  broken!  It  has  certainly  not  died,  but  in  the 
course  of  years  the  number  of  blossoms  will  diminish;  at 
last  the  fruit  will  cease  altogether;  and  at  last — at  last  all 
will  be  over!" 

Such  were  Anthony's  thoughts  under  the  tree;  such  were 
his  thoughts  during  many  a  night  in  the  lonely  chamber 
of  the  wooden  house  in  the  distant  land — in  the  Hauschen 
Street  in  Copenhagen,  whither  his  rich  employer,  the  Bre- 
men merchant,  had  sent  him,  first  making  it  a  condition 
that  he  should  not  marry. 

"Marry!    Ha,  ha!''   he  laughed  bitterly  to  himself. 

Winter  had  set  in  early;  it  v^^as  freezing  hard.  Without, 
a  snowstorm  was  raging,  so  that  everyone  who  could  do 
so  remained  at  home;  thus,  too,  it  happened  that  those  who 
lived  opposite  to  Anthony  did  not  notice  that  for  two  days 
his  house  had  not  been  unlocked,  and  that  he  did  not  show 
himself;  for  who  would  go  out  unnecessarily  in  such 
weather? 

They  were  gray,  gloomy  days;  and  in  the  house,  whose 
windows  were  not  of  glass,  twilight  only  alternated  with 
dark  night.  Old  Anthony  had  not  left  his  bed  during  the 
two  days,  for  he  had  not  the  strength  to  rise;  he  had  for  a 
long  time  felt  in  his  limbs  the  hardness  of  the  weather.  For- 
saken by  all,  lay  the  old  bachelor,  unable  to  help  himself. 
He  could  scarcely  reach  the  water  jug  that  he  had  placed 
by  his  bedside,  and  the  last  drop  it  contained  had  been  con- 
sumed. It  was  not  fever,  nor  sickness,  but  old  age  that  had 
struck  him  down.    Up  yonder,  where  his  couch  was  placed, 


262  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

he  was  overshadowed,  as  it  were,  by  continual  night.  A  lit- 
tle spider,  which,  however,  he  could  not  see,  busily  and 
cheerfully  spun  its  web  around  him,  as  if  it  were  weaving  a 
little  crape  banner  that  should  wave  when  the  old  man 
closed  his  eyes. 

The  time  was  very  slow,  and  long,  and  dreary.  Tears  he 
had  none  to  shed,  nor  did  he  feel  pain.  The  thought  of 
Molly  never  came  into  his  mind.  He  felt  as  if  the  world  and 
its  noise  concerned  him  no  longer — as  if  he  were  lying  out- 
side the  world,  and  no  one  were  thinking  of  him.  For  a 
moment  he  felt  a  sensation  of  hunger — of  thirst.  Yes,  he 
felt  them  both.  But  nobody  came  to  tend  him — nobody. 
He  thought  of  those  who  had  once  suffered  want;  of  Saint 
Elizabeth,  as  she  had  once  wandered  on  earth;  of  her,  the 
saint  of  his  home  and  of  his  childhood,  the  noble  Duchess 
of  Thuringia,  the  benevolent  lady  who  had  been  accustomed 
to  visit  the  lowliest  cottages,  bringing  to  the  inmates  re- 
freshment and  comfort.  Her  pious  deeds  shone  bright 
upon  his  soul.  He  thought  of  her  as  she  had  come  to  dis- 
tribute words  of  comfort,  binding  up  the  wounds  of  the 
afflicted  and  giving  meat  to  the  hungry,  though  her  stern 
husband  had  chidden  her  for  it.  He  thought  of  the  legend 
told  of  her,  how  she  had  been  carrying  the  full  basket 
containing  food  and  wine,  when  her  husband,  who  watched 
her  footsteps,  came  forth  and  asked  angrily  what  she  was 
carrying,  whereupon  she  answered,  in  fear  and  trembling, 
that  the  basket  contained  roses  which  she  had  plucked  in 
the  garden ;  how  he  had  torn  away  the  white  cloth  from  the 
basket,  and  a  miracle  had  been  performed  for  the  pious 
lady;  for  bread  and  wine,  and  everything  in  the  basket,  had 
been  transformed  into  roses! 

Thus  the  saint's  memory  dwelt  in  Anthony's  quiet  mind; 
thus  she  stood  bodily  before  his  downcast  face,  before  his 
warehouse  in  the  simple  booth  in  the  Danish  land.  He  un- 
covered his  head,  and  looked  into  her  gentle  eyes,  and 
everything  around  him  was  beautiful  and  roseate.  Yes,  the 
roses  seemed  to  unfold  themselves  in  fragrance.  There 
came  to  him  a  sweet,  peculiar  odor  of  apples,  and  lie  saw 
a  blooming  apple  tree,  which  spread  its  branches  above  him 
— it  was  the  tree  which  Molly  and  he  had  planted  together. 

And  the  tree  strewed  down  its  fragrant  leaves  upon  him, 
cooling  his  burning  brow.    The  leaves  fell  upon  his  parched 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  263 

lips,  and  were  like  strengthening  bread  and  wine;  and  they 
fell  upon  his  breast,  and  he  felt  reassured  and  calm,  and  in- 
clined to  sleep  peacefully. 

"Now  I  shall  sleep,"  he  whispered  to  himself,  "Sleep  is 
refreshing.  To.-morrow  I  shall  be  upon  my  feet  again,  and 
strong  and  well — glorious,  wonderful!  That  apple  tree, 
planted  in  true  affection,  now  stands  before  me  in  heavenly 
radiance " 

And  he  slept. 

The  day  afterward — it  was  the  third  day  that  his  shop  had 
remained  closed— the  snowstorm  had  ceased,  and  a  neigh- 
bor from  the  opposite  house  came  over  toward  the  booth 
where  dwelt  old  Anthony,  who  had  not  yet  shown  himself. 
Anthony  lay  stretched  upon  his  bed — dead — with  his  old 
cap  clutched  tightly  in  his  two  hands!  They  did  not  put 
that  cap  on  his  head  in  his  coffin,  for  he  had  a  new  white 
one. 

Where  were  now  the  tears  that  he  had  wept?  What  had 
become  of  the  pearls?  They  remained  in  the  nightcap — 
and  the  true  ones  do  not  come  out  in  the  wash — they  were 
preserved  in  the  nightcap,  and  in  time  forgotten;  but  the 
old  thoughts  and  the  old  dreams  still  remained  in  the 
"bachelor's  nightcap."  Don't  wish  for  such  a  cap  for  your- 
selves. It  would  make  your  forehead  very  hot,  would  make 
your  pulse  beat  feverishly,  and  conjure  up  dreams  which 
appear  like  reality.  The  first  who  wore  that  identical  cap 
afterward  felt  all  at  once,  though  it  was  half  a  century  after- 
ward; and  that  man  was  the  burgomaster  himself,  who, 
with  his  wife  and  eleven  children,  was  well  and  firmly  estab- 
lished, and  had  amassed  a  very  tolerable  amount  of  wealth. 
He  was  immediately  seized  with  dreams  of  unfortunate  love, 
of  bankruptcy,  and  of  heavy  times. 

"Hallo!  how  the  nightcap  burns!"  he  cried,  and  tore  it 
from  his  head. 

And  a  pearl  rolled  out,  and  another,  and  they  sounded 
and  glittered. 

"This  must  be  gout,"  said  the  burgomaster.  "Something 
dazzles  my  eyes!" 

They  were  tears,  shed  half  a  century  before  by  old  An- 
thony from  Eisenach. 

Everyone  who  afterward  put  that  nightcap  upon  his  head 
had  visions  and  dreams  which  excited  him  not  a  little.    His 


2Gi  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

own  history  was  changed  into  that  of  Anthony,  and  became 
a  story;  in  fact,  many  stories.  But  someone  else  may  tell 
them.  We  have  told  the  first.  And  our  last  word  is — don't 
wish  for  "the  Old  Bachelor's  Nightcap." 


A  ROSE  FROM  THE  GRAVE  OF  HOMER. 

All  the  songs  of  the  East  tell  of  the  love  of  the  nightin- 
gale to  the  rose;  in  the  silent,  starlit  nights  the  winged 
songster  serenades  his  fragrant  flower. 

Not  far  from  Smyrna,  under  the  lofty  plantains,  where  the 
merchant  drives  his  loaded  camels,  that  proudly  lift  their 
long  necks  and  tramp  over  the  holy  ground,  I  saw  a  hedge 
of  roses.  Wild  pigeons  flew  among  the  branches  of  the 
high  trees,  and  their  wings  glistened,  while  a  sunbeam 
glided  over  them,  as  if  they  were  mother-o'-pearl. 

The  rose  hedge  bore  a  flower  which  was  the  most  beauti- 
ful among  all,  and  the  nightingale  sang  to  her  of  his  woes; 
but  the  Rose  was  silent — not  a  dewdrop  lay,  like  a  tear  of 
sympathy,  upon  her  leaves;  she  bent  down  over  a  few  great 
stones. 

"Here  rests  the  greatest  singer  of  the  world!"  said  the 
Rose;  "over  his  tomb  will  I  pour  out  my  fragrance,  and  on 
it  I  will  let  fall  my  leaves  when  the  storm  tears  them  off. 
He  who  sang  of  Troy  became  earth,  and  from  that  earth  I 
have  sprung.  I,  a  rose  from  the  grave  of  Homer,  am  too 
lofty  to  bloom  for  a  poor  nightingale!" 

And  the  nightingale  sang  himself  to  death. 

The  camel  driver  came  with  his  loaded  camels  and  his 
black  slaves;  his  little  son  found  the  dead  bird,  and  buried 
the  little  songster  in  the  grave  of  the  great  Homer.  And 
the  rose  trembled  in  the  wind.  The  evening  came,  and  the 
Rose  wrapped  her  leaves  more  closely  together,  and 
dreamed  thus: 

"It  was  a  fair  sunshiny  day;  a  crowd  of  strangers  drew 
near,  for  they  had  undertaken  a  pilgrimage  to  the  grave  of 
'Homer.  Among  the  strangers  was  a  singer  from  the  North, 
the  home  of  clouds  and  of  the  Northern  Light.  He  plucked 
the  Rose,  placed  it  in  a  book,  and  carried  it  away  into  an- 
other part  of  the  world,  to  his  distant  fatherland.    The  Rose 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  265 

faded  with  grief,  and  lay  in  the  narrow  book,  which  he 
opened  in  his  home,  saying,  'Here  is  a  rose  from  the  grave 
of  Homer.' " 

This  the  flower  dreamed;  and  she  awoke  and  trembled 
in  the  wind.  A  drop  of  dew  fell  from  the  leaves  upon  the 
singer's  grave.  The  sun  rose,  and  the  Rose  glowed  more 
beauteous  than  before ;  it  was  a  hot  day,  and  she  was  in  her 
own  warm  Asia.  Then  footsteps  were  heard,  and  Prankish 
strangers  came,  such  as  the  Rose  had  seen  in  her  dream; 
and  among  the  strangers  was  a  poet  from  the  North;  he 
plucked  the  Rose,  pressed  a  kiss  upon  her  fresh  mouth,  and 
carried  her  away  to  the  home  of  the  clouds  and  of  the 
Northern  Light, 

Like  a  mummy  the  flower  corpse  now  rests  in  his  "Iliad," 
and,  as  in  a  dream,  she  hears  him  open  a  book  and  say, 
"Here  is  a  rose  from  the  grave  of  Homer." 


THE   WIND    TELLS    ABOUT   WALDEMAR   DAA 
AND  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 

When  the  wind  sweeps  across  the  grass,  the  field  has  a 
ripple  like  a  pond,  and  when  it  sweeps  across  the  corn  the 
field  waves  to  and  fro  like  a  high  sea.  That  is  called  the 
wind's  dance;  but  the  wind  does  not  dance  only;  he  also 
tells  stories;  and  how  loudly  he  can  sing  out  of  his  deep 
chest,  and  how  different  it  sounds  in  the  treetops  in  the  for- 
est, and  through  the  loopholes  and  clefts  and  cracks  in 
walls!  Do  you  see  how  the  wind  drives  the  clouds  up  yon- 
der, like  a  frightened  flock  of  sheep?  Do  you  hear  how  the 
wind  howls  down  here  through  the  open  valley,  like  a 
watchman  blowing  his  horn?  With  wonderful  tones  he 
whistles  and  screams  down  the  chimney  and  into  the  fire- 
place. The  fire  crackles  and  flares  up,  and  shines  far  into 
the  room,  and  the  little  place  is  warm  and  snug,  and  it  is 
pleasant  to  sit  there  listening  to  the  sounds.  Let  the  Wind 
speak,  for  he  knows  plenty  of  stories  and  fairy  tales,  many 
more  than  are  known  to  any  of  us.  Just  hear  what  the 
Wind  can  tell. 


266  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY   TALES. 

"Huh — uh — ush!  roar  along!"  That  is  the  burden  of  the 
song. 

"By  the  shores  of  the  Great  Belt,  one  of  the  straits  that 
unite  the  Cattegat  with  the  Baltic,  lies  an  old  mansion  with 
thick  red  walls,"  says  the  Wind.  "I  know  every  stone  in  it; 
I  saw  it  when  it  still  belonged  to  the  castle  of  Marsk  Stig 
on  the  promontory.  But  it  had  to  be  pulled  down,  and  the 
stone  was  used  again  for  the  walls  of  a  new  mansion  in  an- 
other place,  the  baronial  mansion  of  Borreby,  which  still 
stands  by  the  coast. 

"I  knew  them,  the  noble  lords  and  ladies,  the  changing 
races  that  dwelt  there,  and  now  I'm  going  to  tell  about 
Waldemar  Daa  and  his  daughters.  How  proudly  he  car- 
ried himself — he  was  of  royal  blood!  He  could  do  more 
than  micrely  hunt  the  stag  and  empty  the  wine-can.  'It 
shall  be  done,'  he  was  accustomed  to  say. 

"His  wife  walked  proudly  in  gold  embroidered  garments 
over  the  polished  marble  floors.  The  tapestries  were  gor- 
geous, the  furniture  was  expensive  and  artistically  carved. 
She  had  brought  gold  and  silver  plate  with  her  into  the 
house,  and  there  was  German  beer  in  the  cellar.  Black; 
fiery  horses  neighed  in  the  stables.  There  was  a  wealthy 
look  about  the  house  of  Borreby  at  that  time,  when  wealth 
was  still  at  home  there. 

"Four  children  dwelt  there  also;  three  delicate  maidens, 
Ida,  Joanna,  and  Anna  Dorothea.  I  have  never  forgotten 
their  names. 

"They  were  rich  people,  noble  people,  born  in  affluence, 
nurtured  in  af^uence. 

"Hush — sh!  roar  along!"  sang  the  Wind;  then  he  con- 
tinued: 

"I  did  not  see  here,  as  in  other  great  noble  houses,  the 
high-born  lady  sitting  among  her  women  in  the  great  hall 
turning  the  spinning-wheel;  here  she  swept  the  sounding 
chords  of  the  cithern,  and  sang  to  the  sound,  but  not  always 
the  old  Danish  melodies,  but  songs  of  a  strange  land.  It 
was  'live  and  let  live'  here;  stranger  guests  came  from  far 
and  near,  the  music  sounded,  the  goblets  clashed,  and  I 
was  not  able  to  drown  the  noise,''  said  the  Wind.  "Osten- 
tation, and  haughtiness,  and  splendor,  and  display,  and 
rule  were  there,  but  the  fear  of  the  Lord  was  not  there. 

"And  it  was  just  on  the  evening  of  the  first  day  of  May," 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  267 

the  Wind  continued.  "I  came  from  the  west,  and  had  seen 
how  the  ships  were  being  crushed  by  the  waves,  with  all  on 
board,  and  flung  on  the  west  coast  of  Jutland.  I  had  hur- 
ried across  the  heath,  and  over  Jutland's  wood-girt  eastern 
coast,  and  over  the  Island  of  Fiinen,  and  now  I  drove  over 
the  Great  Belt,  groaning  and  sighing. 

"Then  I  lay  down  to  rest  on  the  shore  of  Seeland  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  great  house  of  Borreby,  where  the  for- 
est, the  splendid  oak  forest,  still  rose. 

"The  young  men-servants  of  the  neighborhood  were  col- 
lecting branches  and  brushwood  under  the  oak  trees;  the 
largest  and  driest  they  could  find  they  carried  into  the  vil- 
lage, and  piled  them  up  in  a  heap,  and  set  them  on  fire; 
the  men  and  maids  danced,  singing  in  a  circle  round  the 
blazing  pile. 

"I  lay  quite  quiet,"  continued  the  Wind;  "but  I  silently 
touched  a  branch  which  had  been  brought  by  the  handsom- 
est of  the  men-servants,  and  the  wood  blazed  up  brightly, 
blazed  up  higher  than  all  the  rest;  and  now  he  was  the 
chosen  one,  and  bore  the  name  of  Street-goat,  and  might 
choose  his  Street-lamp  first  from  among  the  maids;  and 
there  was  mirth  and  rejoicing,  greater  than  I  had  ever  heard 
before  in  the  halls  of  the  rich  baronial  mansion. 

"And  the  noble  lady  drove  toward  the  baronial  mansion, 
with  her  three  daughters,  in  a  gilded  carriage  drawn  by  six 
horses.  The  daughters  were  young  and  fair — three  charm- 
ing blossoms,  rose,  lily,  and  pale  hyacinth.  The  mother 
was  a  proud  tulip,  and  never  acknowledged  the  salutation  of 
one  of  the  men  or  maids  who  paused  in  their  sport  to  do  her 
honor;  the  gracious  lady  seemed  a  flower  that  was  rather 
stiff  in  the  stalk. 

"Rose,  lily,  and  pale  hyacinth;  yes,  I  saw  them  all  three! 
Whose  lambkins  will  they  one  day  become?  thought  I; 
their  Street-goat  will  be  a  gallant  knight,  perhaps  a  prince. 
Huh — sh!   hurry  along!    hurry  along! 

"Yes,  the  carriage  rolled  on  with  them,  and  the  peasant 
people  resumed  their  dancing.  They  rode  that  summer 
through  all  the  villages  round  about.  But  in  the  night, 
when  I  rose  again,"  said  the  Wind,  "the  very  noble  lady  lay 
down,  to  rise  again  no  more;  that  thing  came  upon  her 
which  comes  upon  all — there  is  nothing  new  in  that. 

"Waldemar  Daa  stood  for  a  space  silent  and  thoughtful. 


268  ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES. 

'The  proudest  tree  can  be  bowed  without  being  broken,' 
said  a  voice  within  him.  His  daughters  wept,  and  all  the 
people  in  the  mansion  wiped  their  eyes;  but  Lady  Daa  had 
driven  away — and  I  drove  away,  too,  and  rushed  along — 
huh--sh!"  said  the  Wind. 

"I  returned  again;  I  often  returned  again  over  the  Island 
of  Fiinen  and  the  shores  of  the  Belt,  and  I  sat  down  by 
Borreby,  by  the  splendid  oak  wood;  there  the  heron  made 
his  nest,  and  wood  pigeons  haunted  the  place,  and  blue 
ravens,  and  even  the  black  stork.  It  was  still  spring ;  some 
of  them  were  3^et  sitting  on  their  eggs,  others  had  already 
hatched  their  young.  But  how  the}^  fiew  up,  how  they 
cried!  The  ax  sounded,  blow  upon  blow,  the  v/ood  was  to 
be  felled.  Waldemar  Daa  wanted  to  build  a  noble  ship,  a 
man-of-war,  a  three-decker,  which  the  King  would  be  sure 
to  buy;  and  therefore  the  wood  must  be  felled,  the  land- 
mark of  the  seamen,  the  refuge  of  the  birds.  The  hawk 
started  up  and  flew  away,  for  its  nest  was  destroyed;  the 
heron  and  all  the  birds  of  the  forest  became  homeless,  and 
flew  about  in  fear  and  in  anger;  I  could  well  understand 
how  they  felt.  Crows  and  ravens  croaked  aloud  as  if  in 
scorn.     'Crack!    crack!   the  nest  cracks,  cracks,  cracks!' 

"Far  in  the  interior  of  the  wood,  where  the  noisy  laborers 
were  working,  stood  Waldemar  Daa  and  his  three  daugh- 
ters; and  all  laughed  at  the  wild  cries  of  the  birds;  only 
one,  the  youngest,  Anna  Dorothea,  felt  grieved  in  her 
heart;  and  when  they  made  preparations  to  fell  a  tree  that 
was  almost  dead,  and  on  whose  naked  branches  the  black 
stork  had  built  his  nest,  whence  the  little  storks  were 
stretching  out  their  heads,  she  begged  for  mercy  for  the  lit- 
tle things,  and  the  tears  came  into  her  eyes.  Therefore  the 
tree  with  the  black  stork's  nest  was  left  standing.  The  tree 
was  not  worth  speaking  of. 

"There  was  a  great  hewing  and  sawing,  and  a  three- 
decker  was  built.  The  architect  was  of  low  origin,  but  of 
great  pride;  his  eyes  and  forehead  told  how  clever  he  was, 
and  Waldemar  Daa  was  fond  of  listening  to  him,  and  so 
was  Waldemar's  daughter  Ida,  the  eldest,  who  was  now 
fifteen  years  old;  and  while  he  built  a  ship  for  the  father, 
he  was  building  for  himself  an  airy  castle  into  which  he  and 
Ida  were  to  go  as  a  married  couple — which  might  indeed 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  269 

have  happened,  if  the  castle  with  stone  walls,  and  ramparts, 
and  moats  had  remained.  But  in  spite  of  his  wise  head,  the 
architect  remained  but  a  poor  bird;  and,  indeed,  what  busi- 
ness has  a  sparrow  to  take  part  in  a  dance  of  peacocks? 
Huh — sh!  I  careered  away,  and  he  careered  away,  too,  for 
he  was  not  allowed  to  stay;  and  little  Ida  very  soon  got 
over  it,  because  she  was  obliged  to  get  over  it. 

"The  proud  black  horses  were  neighing  in  the  stable; 
they  were  worth  looking  at,  and  accordingly  they  were 
looked  at.  The  Admiral,  who  had  been  sent  by  the  King 
himself  to  inspect  the  new  ship  and  take  measures  for  its 
purchase,  spoke  loudly  in  admiration  of  the  beautiful 
horses. 

'T  heard  all  that,"  said  the  Wind.  "I  accompanied  the 
gentlemen  through  the  open  door,  and  strewed  blades  of 
straw  like  bars  of  gold  before  their  feet.  Waldemar  Daa 
wanted  to  have  gold,  and  the  Admiral  wished  for  the  proud 
black  horses,  and  that  is  why  he  praised  them  so  much ;  but 
the  hint  was  not  taken,  and  consequently  the  ship  was  not 
bought.  It  remained  on  the  shore  covered  over  with 
boards,  a  Noah's  ark  that  never  got  to  the  water — Huh — sh ! 
rush  away !  away ! — and  that  was  a  pity. 

"In  the  winter,  when  the  fields  were  covered  with  snow, 
and  the  water  with  large  blocks  of  ice  that  I  blew  up  to  the 
coast,"  continued  the  Wind,  "crows  and  ravens  came,  all  as 
black  as  might  be,  great  flocks  of  them,  and  alighted  on  the 
dead,  deserted,  lonely  ship  by  the  shore,  and  croaked  in 
hoarse  accents  of  the  wood  that  was  no  more,  of  the  many 
pretty  birds'  nests  destroyed,  and  the  little  ones  left  without 
a  home ;  and  all  for  the  sake  of  that  great  bit  of  lumber,  that 
proud  ship  that  never  sailed  forth. 

"I  made  the  snowflakes  whirl,  and  the  snow  lay  like  a 
great  lake  high  around  the  ship,  and  drifted  over  it.  I  let 
it  hear  my  voice,  that  it  might  know  what  a  storm  has  to 
say.  Certainly  I  did  my  part  toward  teaching  it  seaman- 
ship.    Huh — sh!   push  along! 

"And  the  winter  passed  away;  winter  and  summer,  both 
passed  away,  and  they  are  still  passing  away,  even  as  I  pass 
away;  as  the  snow  whirls  along,  and  the  apple  blossom 
whirls  along,  and  the  leaves  fall — away!  away! — and  men 
are  passing  away,  too! 

"But  the  daughters  were  still  young,  and  little  Ida  was  a 


270  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

rose,  as  fair  to  look  upon  as  on  the  day  when  the  architect 
saw  her.  I  often  seized  her  long  brown  hair,  when  she 
stood  in  the  garden  by  the  apple  tree,  musing,  and  not  heed- 
ing how  I  strewed  blossoms  on  her  hair,  and  loosened  it, 
while  she  was  gazing  at  the  red  sun  and  the  golden  sky, 
through  the  dark  underwood  and  the  trees  of  the  garden. 

"Her  sister  was  bright  and  slender  as  a  lily.  Joanna  had 
height  and  deportment,  but  was  like  her  mother,  rather 
stiff  in  the  stalk.  She  was  very  fond  of  walking  through  the 
great  hall,  where  hung  the  portraits  of  her  ancestors.  The 
women  were  painted  in  dresses  of  silk  and  velvet,  with  a 
tiny  little  hat  embroidered  with  pearls,  on  their  plaited  hair. 
They  were  handsome  women.  The  gentlemen  were  repre- 
sented clad  in  steel,  or  in  costly  cloaks  lined  with  squirrels' 
skins;  they  wore  little  ruffs,  and  swords  at  their  sides,  but 
not  buckled  to  their  hips.  Where  would  Joanna's  picture 
find  a  place  on  that  wall  some  day?  and  how  would  he  look, 
her  noble  lord  and  husband?  This  is  what  she  thought  of, 
and  of  this  she  spoke  softly  to  herself.  I  heard  it,  as  I  swept 
into  the  long  hall,  and  turned  round  to  come  out  again. 

"Anna  Dorothea,  the  pale  hyacinth,  a  child  of  fourteen, 
was  quiet  and  thoughtful;  her  great,  deep  blue  eyes  had  a 
musing  look,  but  the  childlike  smile  still  played  around  her 
lips;  I  was  not  able  to  blow  it  away,  nor  did  I  wish  to  do  so. 

"We  met  in  the  garden,  in  the  hollow  lane,  in  the  field  and 
meadow;  she  gathered  herbs  and  flowers  which  she  knew 
would  be  useful  to  her  father  in  concocting  the  drinks  and 
drops  he  distilled.  Waldemar  Daa  was  arrogant  and  proud, 
but  he  was  also  a  learned  man,  and  knew  a  great  deal.  That 
was  no  secret,  and  many  opinions  were  expressed  concern- 
ing it.  In  his  chimney  there  was  a  fire  even  in  summ^er 
time.  He  would  lock  the  door  of  his  room,  and  for  days  the 
fire  would  be  poked  and  raked;  but  of  this  he  did  not  talk 
much — the  forces  of  nature  must  be  conquered  in  silence; 
and  soon  he  would  discover  the  art  of  making  the  best 
thing  of  all — the  red  gold. 

"That  is  why  the  chimney  was  always  smoking,  therefore 
the  flames  crackled  so  frequently.  Yes,  I  was  there,  too," 
said  the  Wind.  "  'Let  it  go,'  I  sang  down  through  the 
chimney;  'it  will  end  in  smoke,  air,  coals,  and  ashes!  You 
will  burn  yourself!  Hu-uh-ush !  drive  away!  drive  away!' 
But  Waldemar  Daa  did  not  drive  it  away. 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES.  271 

"The  splendid  black  horses  in  the  stable — what  became  of 
them?  What  became  of  the  old  gold  and  silver  vessels  in 
cupboards  and  chests,  the  cows  in  the  fields,  and  the  house 
and  home  itself?  Yes,  they  may  melt,  may  melt  in  the 
golden  crucible,  and  yet  yield  no  gold. 

"Empty  grew  the  barns  and  store  rooms,  the  cellars  and 
magazines.  The  servants  decreased  in  number,  and  the 
mice  multiplied.  Then  a  window  broke,  and  then  another, 
and  I  could  get  in  elsewhere  besides  at  the  door,"  said  the 
Wind.  "  'Where  the  chimney  smokes  the  meal  is  being 
cooked,'  the  proverb  says.  But  here  the  chimney  smoked 
that  devoured  all  the  meals,  for  the  sake  of  the  red  gold, 

"1  blew  through  the  courtyard  gate  like  a  watchman 
blowing  his  horn,"  the  Wind  went  on,  "but  no  watchman 
was  there,  I  twirled  the  weather  cock  round  on  the  summit 
of  the  tower,  and  it  creaked  like  the  snoring  of  the  warder, 
but  no  warder  was  there;  only  mice  and  rats  were  there. 
Poverty  laid  the  table  cloth;  poverty  sat  in  the  wardrobe 
and  in  the  larder;  the  door  fell  off  its  hinges,  cracks  and 
fissures  made  their  appearance,  and  I  went  in  and  out  at 
pleasure ;  and  that  is  how  I  know  all  about  it. 

"Amid  smoke  and  ashes,  amid  sorrow  and  sleepless 
nights,  the  hair  and  beard  of  the  master  turned  gray,  and 
deep  furrows  showed  themselves  around  his  temples;  his 
skin  turned  pale  and  yellow,  as  his  eyes  looked  greedily  for 
the  gold,  the  desired  gold. 

"I  blew  the  smoke  and  ashes  into  his  face  and  beard;  the 
result  of  his  labor  was  debt  instead  of  pelf.  I  sung  through 
the  burst  window  panes  and  the  yawning  clefts  in  the  walls. 
I  blew  into  the  chests  of  drawers  belonging  to  the  daugh- 
ters, wherein  lay  the  clothes  that  had  become  faded  and 
threadbare  from  being  worn  over  and  over  again.  That 
was  not  the  song  that  had  been  sung  at  the  children's  cra- 
dle. Thelordlylife  had  changed  to  a  life  of  penury.  I  was  the 
only  one  who  rejoiced  aloud  in  that  castle,"  said  the  Wind, 
"I  snowed  them  up,  and  they  say  snow  keeps  people  warm. 
They  had  no  wood,  and  the  forest  from  which  they  might 
have  brought  it  was  cut  down.  It  was  a  biting  frost.  I 
rushed  in  through  loopholes  and  passages,  over  gables  and 
roofs,  that  I  might  be  brisk.  They  were  lying  in  bed  be- 
cause of  the  cold,  three  high-born  daughters,  and  their 
father  was  crouching  under  his  leathern  coverlet.    Nothing 


272  ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES. 

to  bite,  nothing  to  break,  no  fire  on  the  hearth — there  was 
a  hfe  for  high-born  people!  Hush-sh!  Let  it  go!  But  this 
is  what  my  Lord  Daa  could  not  do — he  could  not  let  it  go. 

"  'After  winter  comes  spring,'  he  said.  'After  want,  good 
times  will  come;  one  must  not  lose  patience;  one  must 
learn  to  wait!  Now  my  house  and  lands  are  mortgaged,  it 
is  indeed  high  time;  and  the  gold  will  soon  come.  At 
Easter!' 

"I  heard  how  he  spoke  thus,  looking  at  a  spider's  web. 
'Thou  cunning  little  weaver,  thou  dost  teach  me  perse- 
verance. Let  them  tear  thy  web,  and  thou  wilt  begin  it 
again,  and  complete  it.  Let  them  destroy  it  again,  and  thou 
wilt  resolutely  begin  to  work  again — again!  That  is  what 
we  must  do,  and  that  will  repay  itself  at  last.' 

"It  was  the  morning  of  Easter  day.  The  bells  sounded 
from  the  neighboring  church,  and  the  sun  seemed  to  rejoice 
in  the  sky.  The  master  had  watched  through  the  night  in 
feverish  excitement,  and  had  been  melting  and  cooling,  dis- 
tilling and  mixing.  I  'heard  him  sighing  like  a  soul  in  de- 
spair; I  heard  him  praying,  and  Lnoticed  how  he  held  his 
breath.  The  lamp  was  burned  out,  but  he  did  not  notice 
it.  I  blew  fiercely  at  the  fire  of  coals,  and  it  threw  its  red 
glow  upon  his  ghastly  white  face,  lighting  it  up  with  a  glare, 
and  his  sunken  eyes  looked  forth  wildly  out  of  their  deep 
sockets — but  they  became  larger  and  larger,  as  though  they 
would  burst. 

"Look  at  the  alchymic  glass!  It  glows  in  the  crucible  red, 
hot,  and  pure  and  heavy!  He  lifted  it  with  a  trembling 
hand,  and  cried  with  a  trembling  voice,  'Gold!   gold!' 

"He  was  quite  dizzy — I  could  have  blown  him  down," 
said  the  Wind;  "but  I  only  fanned  the  glowing  coals,  and 
accompanied  him  through  the  door  to  where  his  daughters 
sat  shivering.  His  coat  was  powdered  with  ashes,  and 
there  were  ashes  in  his  beard  and  in  his  tangled  hair.  He 
stood  straight  up,  and  held  his  costly  treasure  on  high,  in 
the  brittle  glass.  'Found,  found! — Gold,  gold!'  he  shouted, 
and  again  held  aloft  the  glass  to  let  it  flash  in  the  sunshine; 
but  his  hand  trembled,  and  the  alchymic  glass  fell  clattering 
to  the  ground,  and  broke  into  a  thousand  pieces;  and  the 
last  bubble  of  his  happiness  had  burst!  Hu — uh-sh!  rush- 
ing away! — and  I  rushed  away  from  the  gold-maker's 
house. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  273 

"Late  in  the  autumn,  when  the  days  are  short,  and  the 
mist  comes  and  strews  cold  drops  upon  the  berries  and  leaf- 
less branches,  I  came  back  in  fresh  spirits,  rushed  through 
the  air,  swept  the  sky  clear,  and  snapped  the  dry  twigs — 
which  is  certainly  no  great  labor,  but  yet  it  must  be  done. 
Then  there  was  another  kind  of  sweeping  clean  at  Walde- 
mar  Daa's  in  the  mansion  of  Borreby.  His  enemy.  Owe 
Rainel,  of  Basnas,  was  there  with  the  mortgage  of  the 
house  and  everything  it  contained  in  his  pocket.  I 
drummed  against  the  broken  window  panes,  beat  against 
the  old  rotten  doors,  and  whistled  through  cracks  and  rifts 
■ — huh-sh !  Mr.  Owe  Rainel  did  not  like  staying  there.  Ida 
•and  Anna  Dorothea  wept  bitterly;  Joanna  stood  pale  and 
proud,  and  bit  her  thumb  till  it  bled — but  what  could  that 
avail?  Owe  Rainel  oflfered  to  allow  Waldemar  Daa  to  re- 
main in  the  mansion  till  the  end  of  his  life,  but  no  thanks 
were  given  him  for  his  offer.  I  listened  to  hear  what  oc- 
curred. I  saw  the  ruined  gentleman  lift  his  head  and  throw 
it  back  prouder  than  ever,  and  I  rushed  against  the  house 
and  the  old  lime  trees  with  such  force,  that  one  of  the  thick- 
est branches  broke,  one  that  was  not  decayed;  and  the 
branch  remained  lying  at  the  entrance  as  a  broom  when 
anyone  wanted  to  sweep  the  place  out;  and  a  grand  sweep- 
ing out  there  was — I  thought  it  would  be  so. 

"It  was  hard  on  that  day  to  preserve  one's  composure; 
but  their  will  was  as  hard  as  their  fortune. 

"There  was  nothing  they  could  call  their  own  except  the 
clothes  they  wore;  yes,  there  was  one  thing  more — the 
alchymist's  glass,  a  new  one  that  had  lately  been  bought, 
and  filled  with  what  had  been  gathered  up  from  the  ground 
of  the  treasure  which  promised  so  much,  but  never  kept  its 
promise.  Waldemar  Daa  hid  the  glass  in  his  bosom,  and 
taking  his  stick  in  his  hand,  the  once  rich  gentleman  passed 
with  his  daughters  out  of  the  house  of  Borreby.  I  blew 
cold  upon  his  heated  cheeks,  I  stroked  his  gray  beard  and 
his  long  white  hair,  and  I  sang  as  well  as  I  could, — 
'Huh-sh!  gone  away!  gone  away!'  And  that  was  the  end 
of  the  wealth  and  splendor. 

"Ida  walked  on  one  side  of  the  old  man,  and  Anna  Doro- 
thea on  the  other.  Joanna  turned  round  at  the  entrance- 
why?     Fortune  would  not  turn  because  she  did  so.     She 

18 


274  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

looked  at  the  old  walls  of  what  had  once  been  the  castle  of 
Marsk  Stig,  and  perhaps  she  thought  of  his  daughters: 

The  eldest  gave  the  youngest  her  hand, 
And  forth  they  went  to  the  far-off  land. 

Was  she  thinking  of  this  old  song?  Here  were  three  of 
them,  and  their  father  was  with  them,  too.  They  walked 
along  the  road  on  which  they  had  once  driven  in  their 
splendid  carriage — they  walked  forth  as  beggars,  with  their 
father,  and  wandered  out  into  the  open  field,  and  into  a  mud 
hut,  which  they  rented  for  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  year — into 
their  new  house  with  the  empty  rooms  and  empty  vessels. 
Crows  and  magpies  fluttered  above  them,  and  cried,  as  if 
in  contempt,  'Craw!  craw!  out  of  the  nest!  craw!  craw!' 
as  they  had  done  in  the  wood  at  Borreby  when  the  trees 
were  felled. 

"Daa  and  his  daughters  could  not  help  hearing  it.  I 
blew  about  their  ears,  for  what  use  would  it  be  that  they 
should  listen? 

"And  they  went  to  live  in  the  mud  hut  on  the  open  field, 
and  I  wandered  away  over  moor  and  field,  through  bare 
bushes  and  leafless  forests,  to  the  open  waters,  the  free 
shores,  to  other  lands — huh-uh-ush!  away,  away! — year 
after  year!" 

And  how  did  Waldemar  Daa  and  his  daughters  prosper? 
The  Wind  tells  us: 

"The  one  I  saw  last,  yes,  for  the  last  time,  was  Anna 
Dorothea,  the  pale  hyacinth;  then  she  was  old  and  bent, 
for  it  was  fifty  years  afterward.  She  lived  longer  than  the 
rest;   she  knew  all. 

"Yonder  on  the  heath,  by  the  Jutland  town  of  Wiborg, 
stood  the  fine  new  house  of  the  cannon,  built  of  red  bricks 
with  projecting  gables;  the  smoke  came  up  thickly  from 
the  chimney.  The  cannon's  gentle  lady  and  her  beautiful 
daughters  sat  in  the  bay  windov/,  and  looked  over  the  haw- 
thorn hedge  of  the  garden  toward  the  brown  heath.  What 
were  they  looking  at?  Their  glances  rested  upon  the  stork's 
nest  without,  and  on  the  hut,  which  was  almost  falling  in; 
the  roof  consisted  of  moss  and  houseleek,  in  so  far  as  a 
roof  existed  there   at  all — the   stork's    nest    covered    the 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  275 

greater  part  of  it,  and  that  alone  was  in  proper  condition, 
for  it  was  kept  in  order  by  the  stork  himself. 

"That  is  a  house  to  be  looked  at,  but  not  to  be  touched; 
I  must  deal  gently  with  it,"  said  the  Wind,  "For  the  sake  of 
the  stork's  nest  the  hut  has  been  allowed  to  stand,  though 
it  has  been  a  blot  upon  the  landscape.  They  did  not  like  to 
drive  the  stork  away,  therefore  the  old  shed  was  left  stand- 
ing, and  the  poor  woman  who  dwelt  in  it  was  allowed  to 
stay;  she  had  the  Egyptian  bird  to  thank  for  that;  or  was 
it  perchance  her  reward,  because  she  had  once  interceded 
for  the  nest  of  its  black  brother  in  the  forest  of  Borreby? 
At  that  time  she,  the  poor  woman,  was  a  young  child,  a 
pale  hyacinth  in  the  rich  garden.  She  remembered  all  that 
right  well,  did  Anna  Dorothea. 

"'Oh!  oh!'  Yes,  people  can  sigh  like  the  wind  moaning 
in  the  rushes  and  reeds.  'Oh!  oh!'  she  sighed,  'no  bells 
sounded  at  thy  burial,  Waldemar  Daa!  The  poor  school- 
boys did  not  even  sing  a  psalm  when  the  former  Lord  of 
Borreby  was  laid  in  the  earth  to  rest!  Oh,  everything  has 
an  end,  even  misery.  Sister  Ida  became  the  wife  of  a  peas- 
ant. That  was  the  hardest  trial  that  befell  our  father,  that 
the  husband  of  a  daughter  of  his  should  be  a  miserable  serf, 
whom  the  proprietor  could  mount  upon  the  wooden  horse 
for  punishment!  I  suppose  he  is  under  the  ground  now. 
And  thou,  Ida!  Alas,  alas!  it  is  not  ended  yet,  wretch  that 
I  am!    Grant  me  that  I  may  die,  kind  Heaven!' 

"That  was  Anna  Dorothea's  prayer  in  the  wretched  hut 
which  was  left  standing  for  the  sake  of  the  stork. 

"I  took  pity  on  the  fairest  of  the  sisters,"  said  the  Wind. 
"Her  courage  was  like  that  of  a  man,  and  in  man's  clothes 
she  took  service  as  a  sailor  on  board  a  ship.  She  was  spar- 
ing of  words,  and  of  a  dark  countenance,  but  willing  at  her 
work.  But  she  did  not  know  how  to  climb;  so  I  blew  her 
overboard  before  anybody  found  out  that  she  was  a  woman, 
and,  according  to  my  thinking,  that  was  well  done!"  said 
the  Wind. 

"On  such  an  Easter  morning  as  that  on  which  Waldemar 
Daa  had  fancied  that  he  had  found  the  red  gold,  I  heard  the 
tones  of  a  psalm  under  the  stork's  nest,  among  the  crum- 
bling walls-r-it  was  Anna  Dorothea's  last  song. 

"There  was  no  window,  only  a  hole  in  the  wall.  The  sun 
rose  up  like  a  mass  of  gold,  and  looked  through.    What  a 


276  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES, 

splendor  he  diffused!  Her  eyes  and  her  heart  were  break- 
ing— but  that  they  would  have  done,  even  if  the  sun  had 
not  shone  that  morning  on  Anna  Dorothea. 

"The  stork  covered  her  hut  till  her  death.  I  sang  at  her 
grave!"  said  the  Wind.  "I  sang  at  her  father's  grave;  I 
know  where  his  grave  is,  and  where  hers  is,  and  nobody  else 
knows  it. 

"New  times,  changed  times!  The  old  high  road  runs 
through  cultivated  fields;  the  new  road  winds  among  the 
trim  ditches,  and  soon  the  railway  will  come  with  its  train  of 
carriages,  and  rush  over  the  graves  which  are  forgotten  like 
the  names — hu-ush! — passed  away!    passed  away! 

"That  is  the  story  of  Waldemar  Daa  and  his  daughters. 
Tell  it  better,  any  of  you,  if  you  know  how,"  said  the  Wind, 
and  turned  away — and  he  was  gone. 


FIVE  OUT  OF  ONE  SHELL. 

There  were  five  peas  in  one  shell;  they  were  green,  and 
the  pod  was  green,  and  so  they  thought  all  the  world  was 
green;  and  that  was  just  as  it  should  be.  The  shell  grew 
and  the  peas  grew;  they  accommodated  themselves  to  cir- 
cumstances, sitting  all  in  a  row.  The  sun  shone  without, 
and  warmed  the  husk,  and  the  rain  made  it  clear  and  trans- 
parent; it  was  mild  and  agreeable  in  the  bright  day  and  in 
the  dark  night,  just  as  it  should  be,  and  the  peas  as  they  sat 
there  became  bigger  and  bigger,  and  more  and  more 
thoughtful,  for  something  they  must  do. 

"Are  we  to  sit  here  everlastingly?"  asked  one.  "I'm 
afraid  we  shall  become  hard  by  long  sitting.  It  seems  to 
me  there  must  be  something  outside — I  have  a  kind  of  ink- 
ling of  it." 

And  weeks  went  by.  The  peas  became  yellow,  and  the 
pod  also. 

"All  the  world's  turning  yellow,"  said  they;  and  they 
had  a  right  to  say  it. 

Suddenly  they  felt  a  tug  at  the  shell.  The  shell  was  torn 
off,  passed  through  human  hands,  and  glided  down  into  the 
pocket  of  a  jacket,  in  company  with  other  full  pods. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  277 

"Now  we  shall  soon  be  opened!"  they  said;  and  that  is 
just  what  they  were  waiting  for. 

"I  should  like  to  know  who  of  us  will  get  farthest!" 
said  the  smallest  of  the  five.  "Yes,  now  it  will  soon  show 
itself." 

"What  is  to  be  will  be,"  said  the  biggest. 

"Crack!"  the  pod  burst,  and  all  the  five  peas  rolled  out 
into  the  bright  sunshine.  There  they  lay  in  a  child's  hand. 
A  little  boy  was  clutching  them,  and  said  they  were  fine  peas 
for  his  pea-shooter;  and  he  put  one  in  directly  and  shot  it 
out. 

"Now  I'm  flying  out  into  the  wide  world,  catch  me  if  you 
can!"    And  he  was  gone. 

"I,"  said  the  second,  "I  shall  fly  straight  into  the  sun. 
That's  a  shell  worth  looking  at,  and  one  that  exactly  suits 
me."    And  away  he  went. 

"We'll  go  to  sleep  wherever  we  arrive,"  said  the  two  next, 
"but  we  shall  roll  on  all  the  same."  And  they  certainly 
rolled  and  tumbled  down  on  the  ground  before  they  got 
into  the  pea-shooter;  but  they  were  put  in  for  all  that. 
"We  shall  go  farthest,"  said  they. 

"What  is  to  happen  will  happen,"  said  the  last,  as  he  was 
shot  forth  out  of  the  pea-shooter;  and  he  flew  up  against 
the  old  board  under  the  garret  window,  just  into  a  crack 
which  was  filled  up  with  moss  and  soft  mold;  and  the  moss 
closed  round  him;  there  he  lay,  a  prisoner  indeed,  but  not 
forgotten  by  provident  nature. 

"What  is  to  happen  will  happen,"  said  he. 

Within,  in  the  little  garret,  lived  a  poor  woman,  who  went 
out  in  the  day  to  clean  stoves,  chop  wood  small,  and  to  do 
other  hard  work  of  the  same  kind,  for  she  was  strong  and 
industrious,  too.  But  she  always  remained  poor;  and  at 
home  in  the  garret  lay  her  half-grown  only  daughter,  who 
was  very  delicate  and  weak;  for  a  whole  year  she  had  kept 
her  bed,  and  it  seemed  as  if  she  could  neither  live  nor  die. 

"She  is  going  to  her  little  sister,"  the  woman  said.  "I  had 
only  the  two  children,  and  it  was  not  an  easy  thing  to  pro- 
vide for  both,  but  the  good  God  provided  for  one  of  them 
by  taking  her  home  to  himself;  now  I  should  be  glad  to 
keep  the  other  that  was  left  me;  but  I  suppose  they  are  not 
to  remain  separated,  and  my  sick  girl  will  go  to  her  sister 
in  heaven." 


278  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

But  the  sick  girl  remained  where  she  was.  She  lay  quiet 
and  patient  all  day  long,  while  her  mother  went  to  earn 
money  out  of  doors.  It  was  spring,  and  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, just  as  the  mother  was  about  to  go  out  to  work,  the 
sun  shone  mildly  and  pleasantly  through  the  little  window, 
and  threw  its  rays  across  the  floor;  and  the  sick  girl  fixed 
her  eyes  on  the  lowest  pane  in  the  window. 

"What  may  that  green  thing  be  that  looks  in  at  the  win- 
dow?   It  is  moving  in  the  wind." 

And  the  mother  stepped  to  the  window,  and  half  opened 
it.  "Oh!"  said  she,  "on  my  word,  that  is  a  little  pea  which 
has  taken  root  here,  and  is  putting  out  its  little  leaves.  How 
can  it  have  got  into  the  crack?  That  is  a  little  garden  with 
which  you  can  amuse  yourself." 

And  the  sick  girl's  bed  was  moved  nearer  to  the  window, 
so  that  she  could  always  see  the  growing  pea;  and  the 
mother  went  forth  to  her  work. 

"Mother,  I  think  I  shall  get  well,"  said  the  sick  child  in 
the  evening.  "The  sun  shone  in  upon  me  to-day  delight- 
fully warm.  The  little  pea  is  prospering  famously,  and  I 
shall  prosper,  too,  and  get  up,  and  go  out  into  the  warm 
sunshine." 

"God  grant  it,"  said  the  mother,  but  she  did  not  believe 
it  would  be  so ;  but  she  took  care  to  prop  with  a  little  stick 
the  green  plant  which  had  given  her  daughter  the  pleasant 
thoughts  of  life,  so  that  it  might  not  be  broken  by  the  wind; 
she  tied  a  piece  of  string  to  the  window  sill  and  to  the  upper 
part  of  the  frame,  so  that  the  pea  might  have  something 
round  which  it  could  twine,  when  it  shot  up;  and  it  did 
shoot  up,  indeed — one  could  see  how  it  grew  every  day. 

"Really,  here  is  a  flower  coming!"  said  the  v/oman  one 
day;  and  now  she  began  to  cherish  the  hope  that  her  sick 
daughter  would  recover.  She  remembered  that  lately  the 
child  had  spoken  much  more  cheerfully  than  before,  that  in 
the  last  few  days  she  had  risen  up  in  bed  of  her  own  accord, 
and  had  sat  upright,  looking  with  delighted  eyes  at  the  lit- 
tle garden  in  which  only  one  plant  grew.  A  week  afterward 
the  invalid  for  the  first  time  sat  up  for  a  whole  hour.  Quite 
happy,  she  sat  there  in  the  warm  sunshine ;  the  window  was 
opened,  and  outside  before  it  stood  a  pink  pea  blossom, 
fullv  blown.  The  sick  girl  bent  down  and  gently  kissed  the 
delicate  leaves.    This  day  was  like  a  festival. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  279 

"The  Heavenly  Father  himself  has  planted  that  pea,  and 
caused  it  to  prosper,  to  be  a  joy  to  you,  and  to  me  also,  my 
blessed  child!"  said  the  glad  mother;  and  she  smiled  at  the 
flower,  as  if  it  had  been  a  good  angel. 

But  about  the  other  peas?  Why,  the  one  who  flew  out 
into  the  wide  world,  and  said,  "Catch  me  if  you  can,"  fell 
into  the  gutter  on  the  roof,  and  found  a  home  in  a  pigeon's 
crop;  the  two  lazy  ones  got  just  as  far,  for  they,  too,  were 
eaten  up  by  pigeons,  and  thus,  at  any  rate,  they  were  of 
some  real  use;  but  the  fourth,  who  wanted  to  go  up  into  the 
sun,  fell  into  the  sink,  and  there  he  lay  in  the  dirty  water 
for  weeks  and  weeks,  and  swelled  prodigiousl;^. 

"How  beautifully  fat  I'm  growing!"  said  the  Pea.  "I 
shall  burst  at  last;  and  I  don't  think  any  pea  can  do  more 
than  that.  I'm  the  most  remarkable  of  all  the  five  that  were 
in  the  shell." 

And  the  Sink  said  he  was  right. 

But  the  young  girl  at  the  garret  window  stood  there  with 
gleaming  eyes,  with  the  roseate  hue  of  health  on  her  cheeks, 
and  folded  her  thin  hands  over  the  pea  blossom,  and 
thanked  Heaven  for  it. 

"I,"  said  the  Sink,  "stand  up  for  my  own  pea." 


THE  METAL  PIG. 

In  the  city  of  Florence,  not  far  from  the  Piazza  del  Gran- 
duca,  there  runs  a  little  cross  street,  I  think  it  is  called  Porta 
Rosa.  In  this  street,  in  front  of  a  kind  of  market  hall  where 
vegetables  are  sold,  there  lies  a  Pig  artistically  fashioned  of 
metal.  The  fresh,  clear  water  pours  from  the  jaws  of  the 
creature,  which  has  become  a  blackish-green  from  age; 
only  the  snout  shines  as  if  it  had  been  polished,  and  indeed 
it  has  been,  by  many  hundreds  of  children  and  lazzaroni, 
who  seize  it  with  their  hands,  and  place  their  mouths  close 
to  the  mouth  of  the  animal,  to  drink.  It  is  a  perfect  picture 
to  see  the  well-shaped  creature  clasped  by  a  half-naked  boy, 
who  lays  his  red  lips  against  its  jaw. 

Everyone  who  comes  to  Florence  can  easily  find  the 
place;  he  need  only  ask  the  first  beggar  he  meets  for  the 
Metal  Pig,  and  he  will  find  it. 


280  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

It  was  late  on  a  winter  evening.  The  mountains  were 
covered  with  snow;  but  the  moon  shone,  and  moonhght  in 
Italy  is  just  as  good  as  the  light  of  a  murky  Northern  win- 
ter's day;  nay,  it  is  better,  for  the  air  shines  and  lifts  us  up, 
while  in  the  North  the  cold,  gray,  leaden  covering  seems  to 
press  us  downward  to  the  earth — the  cold  damp  earth, 
which  will  once  press  down  our  coffin. 

In  the  Grand  Duke's  palace  garden,  under  a  penthouse 
roof,  where  a  thousand  roses  bloom  in  winter,  a  little  ragged 
boy  had  been  sitting  all  day  long,  a  boy  who  might  serve 
as  a  type  of  Italy,  pretty  and  smiling,  and  yet  suffering.  He 
was  hungry  and  thirsty,  but  no  one  gave  him  anything; 
and  when  it  became  dark,  and  the  garden  was  to  be  closed, 
the  porter  turned  him  out.  Long  he  stood  musing  on  the 
bridge  that  spans  the  Arno,  and  looked  at  the  stars,  whose 
light  glittered  in  the  water  between  him  and  the  splendid 
marble  bridge  of  Delia  Trinita. 

He  took  his  way  toward  the  Metal  Pig,  half-knelt  down, 
clasped  his  arms  round  it,  put  his  mouth  against  its  shining 
snout,  and  drank  the  fresh  water  in  deep  draughts.  Close 
by  lay  a  few  leaves  of  salad  and  one  or  two  chestnuts ;  these 
were  his  supper.  No  one  was  in  the  street  but  himself — it 
belonged  to  him  alone ;  and  he  boldly  sat  down  on  the  Pig's 
back,  bent  forward,  so  that  his  curly  head  rested  on  the  head 
of  the  animal,  and,  before  he  was  aware,  fell  asleep. 

It  was  midnight.  The  ]\Ietal  Pig  stirred,  and  he  heard  it 
say  quite  distinctly,  "You  little  boy,  hold  tight,  for  now  I  am 
going  to  run,''  and  away  it  ran  with  him.  This  was  a  won- 
derful ride.  First  they  got  to  the  Piazza  del  Granduca,  and 
the  metal  horse,  which  carries  the  Duke's  statue,  neighed 
aloud,  the  painted  coat  of  arms  on  the  old  covmcil  house 
looked  like  transparent  pictures,  and  Michael  Angelo's 
"David"  swung  his  sling;  there  was  a  strange  life  stirring 
among  them.  The  metal  groups  representin'g  persons,  and 
the  rape  of  the  Sabines,  stood  there  as  if  they  were  alive ;  a 
cry  of  mortal  fear  escaped  them,  and  resounded  over  the 
splendid  square. 

By  the  Palazzo  Degli  Uffizi,  in  the  arcade,  where  the  no- 
bility assembled  for  the  Carnival  amusements,  the  ]\Ietal 
Pig  stopped.  "Hold  tight,"  said  the  creature,  "for  now  we 
are  going  upstairs."  The  little  boy  spoke  not  a  word,  for 
he  was  half  frightened,  half  delighted. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  281 

They  came  into  a  long  gallery  where  the  boy  had  already 
been.  The  walls  shone  with  pictures;  here  stood  statues 
and  busts,  all  in  the  most  charming  light,  as  if  it  had  been 
broad  day;  but  the  most  beautiful  of  all  was  when  the  door 
of  a  side  room  opened;  the  little  boy  could  remember  the 
splendor  that  was  there,  but  on  this  night  everything  shone 
in  the  most  glorious  colors. 

Here  stood  a  beautiful  woman,  as  radiant  in  beauty  as 
nature  and  the  greatest  master  of  sculpture  could  make  her; 
she  moved  her  graceful  limbs,  dolphins  sprang  at  her  feet, 
and  immortality  shone  out  of  her  eyes.  The  world  calls  her 
the  Venus  de  Medici.  By  her  side  are  statues  in  which  the 
spirit  of  life  has  been  breathed  into  the  stone;  they  are 
handsome,  unclothed  men.  One  was  sharpening  a  sword, 
and  was  called  the  Grinder;  the  Wrestling  Gladiators 
formed  another  group;  and  the  sword  was  sharpened,  and 
they  strove  for  the  Goddess  of  Beauty. 

The  boy  was  dazzled  by  all  this  pomp;  the  walls  gleamed 
with  bright  colors,  and  everything  was  life  and  movement. 

What  splendor,  what  beauty  shone  from  hall  to  hall!  and 
the  little  boy  saw  everything  plainly,  for  the  Metal  Pig  went 
step  by  step  from  one  picture  to  another  through  all  this 
scene  of  magnificence.  Each  fresh  glor}^  efifaced  the  last. 
One  picture  only  fixed  itself  firmly  in  his  soul  especially, 
through  the  very  happy  children  introduced  into  it,  for  these 
the  little  boy  fancied  he  had  greeted  in  the  daylight. 

Many  persons  pass  by  this  picture  with  indifference,  and 
yet  it  contains  a  treasure  of  poetry.  It  represents  the  Savior 
descending  into  hell.  But  these  are  not  the  damned  whom 
the  spectator  sees  around  him ;  they  are  heathen.  The  Flor- 
entine Agniolo  Bronzino  painted  this  picture.  'Most  beauti- 
ful is  the  expression  on  the  faces  of  the  children — the  full 
confidence  that  they  will  get  to  heaven.  Two  little  beings 
are  already  embracing,  and  one  little  one  stretches  out  his 
hand  toward  another  who  stands  below  him,  and  points  to 
himself  as  if  he  were  saymg,  'T  am  going  to  heaven!"  The 
older  people  stand  uncertain,  hoping,  but  bowing  in  humble 
adoration  before  the  Lord  Jesus.  The  boy's  eyes  rested 
longer  on  this  picture  than  on  any  other.  The  Metal  Pig 
stood  still  before  it.  A  low  sigh  was  heard;  did  it  come 
from  the  picture  or  from  the  animal?     The  boy  lifted  up  his 


282  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

hands  toward  the  smihng  children;  then  the  Pig  ran  away 
with  him,  away  through  the  open  vestibule. 

"Thanks  and  blessings  to  yourself,"  replied  the  Metal  Pig. 
"I  have  helped  you,  and  you  have  helped  me,  for  with  only 
an  innocent  child  on  my  back  do  I  receive  power  to  run! 
Yes,  you  see,  I  may  even  step  into  the  rays  of  the  lamp  in 
front  of  the  picture  of  the  Madonna,  only  I  may  not  go  into 
the  church.  But  from  without,  when  you  are  with  me,  I 
may  look  in  through  the  open  door.  Do  not  get  down  from 
my  back ;  if  you  do  so,  I  shall  lie  dead  as  you  see  me  in  the 
daytime  at  the  Porta  Rosa." 

"I  will  stay  with  you  then,  you  dear  creature!"  cried  the 
little  boy. 

So  they  went  in  hot  haste  through  the  streets  of  Florence, 
out  into  the  place  before  the  church  of  Santa  Croce.  The 
folding  doors  flew  open,  and  lights  gleamed  out  from  the 
altar  through  the  church  into  the  deserted  square. 

A  wonderful  blaze  of  light  streamed  forth  from  a  monu- 
ment in  the  left  aisle,  and  a  thousand  moving  stars  seemed 
to  form  a  glory  round  it.  A  coat  of  arms  shone  upon  the 
grave,  a  red  letter  in  a  blue  field  seemed  to  glow  like  fire. 
It  was  the  grave  of  Galileo.  The  monument  is  unadorned, 
but  the  red  ladder  is  a  significant  emblem,  as  if  it  were  that 
of  art,  for  in  art  the  way  always  leads  up  a  burning  ladder, 
toward  heaven.  The  prophets  of  mind  soar  vipward  toward 
heaven,  like  Elias  of  old. 

To  the  right,  in  the  aisle  of  the  church,  every  statue  on  the 
richly  carved  sarcophagi  seemed  endowed  with  life.  Here 
stood  Michael  Angelo,  there  Dante  with  the  laurel  wreath 
round  his  brow,  Alfieri  and  Machiavelli;  for  here  the  great 
men,  the  pride  of  Italy,  rest  side  by  side.*  It  is  a  glorious 
church,  far  more  beautiful  than  the  marble  cathedral  of 
Florence,  though  not  so  large. 

*  Opposite  to  the  grave  of  Galileo  is  the  tomb  of  Michael  An- 
gelo. On  the  monument  his  bust  is  displayed,  with  three  figures, 
representing  Sculpture,  Painting,  and  Architecture.  Close  by  is 
a  monument  to  Dante,  whose  corpse  is  interred  at  Ravenna;  on 
this  monument  Italy  is  represented  pointing  to  a  colossal  statue 
of  the  poet,  while  Poetry  weeps  over  his  loss.  A  few  paces  far- 
ther on  is  Alfieri's  monument,  adorned  with  laurel,  the  lyre,  and 
dramatic  masks.  Italy  weeps  at  his  grave.  Machiavelli  here 
closes  the  series  of  celebrated  men. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  283 

It  seemed  as  if  the  marble  vestments  stirred,  as  if  the 
great  forms  raised  their  heads  higher  and  looked  up,  amid 
song  and  music,  to  the  brighter  altar  glowing  with  color, 
where  the  white-clad  boys  swing  the  golden  censors;  and 
the  strong  fragrance  streamed  out  of  the  church  into  the 
open  square. 

The  boy  stretched  forth  his  hand  toward  the  gleaming 
light,  and  in  a  moment  the  Metal  Pig  resumed  its  headlong 
career;  he  was  obliged  to  cling  tightly;  and  the  wind 
whistled  about  his  ears;  he  heard  the  church  door  creak  on 
its  hinges  as  it  closed;  but  at  the  same  moment  his  senses 
seemed  to  desert  him,  he  felt  a  cold  shudder  pass  over  him, 
and  awoke. 

It  was  morning,  and  he  was  still  sitting  on  the  Metal  Pig, 
which  stood  where  it  always  stood  on  the  Porta  Rosa,  and 
he  had  slipped  half  ofif  its  back. 

Fear  and  trembling  filled  the  soul  of  the  boy  at  the 
thought  of  her  whom  he  called  mother,  and  who  had  yester- 
day sent  him  forth  to  bring  money;  for  he  had  none,  and 
was  hungry  and  thirsty.  Once  more  he  clasped  his  arms 
round  the  neck  of  his  metal  horse,  kissed  its  lips,  and  nod- 
ded farewell  to  it.  Then  he  wandered  away  into  one  of  the 
narrowest  streets,  where  there  is  scarcely  room  for  a  laden 
ass.  A  great  iron-clamped  door  stood  ajar;  he  passed 
through  it,  and  climbed  up  a  brick  stair,  with  dirty  walls  and 
a  rope  for  a  balustrade,  till  he  came  to  an  open  gallery  hung 
with  rags;  from  here  a  flight  of  stairs  led  down  into  the 
court,  where  there  was  a  fountain,  and  great  iron  wires  led 
up  to  the  different  stories,  and  many  water  buckets  hung 
side  by  side,  and  at  times  the  roller  creaked,  and  one  of  the 
buckets  would  dance  into  the  air,  swaying  so  that  the  water 
splashed  out  of  it  down  into  the  courtyard.  A  second  ruin- 
ous brick  staircase  here  led  upward.  Two  Russian  sailors 
were  running  briskly  down,  and  almost  overturned  the  poor 
boy;  they  were  going  home  from  their  nightly  carouse.  A 
large  woman,  no  longer  young,  followed  them. 

"What  do  you  bring  home?"  she  asked  the  boy. 

"Don't  be  angry,"  he  pleaded.  "I  received  nothing — 
nothing  at  all."  And  he  seized  the  mother's  dress,  and 
would  have  kissed  it. 

They  went  into  the  little  room.  I  will  not  describe  it,  but 
only  say  that  there  stood  in  it  an  earthen  pot  with  handles, 


tU  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

made  for  holding  fire,  and  called  marito.  This  pot  she  took 
in  her  arms,  warmed  her  fingers,  and  pushed  the  boy  with 
her  elbow. 

"Certainly  you  must  have  brought  some  money?"  said 
she. 

The  boy  wept,  and  she  struck  him  with  her  foot,  so  that 
he  cried  aloud. 

"Will  you  be  silent,  or  I'll  break  your  screaming  head!" 

And  she  brandished  the  fire  pot  which  she  held  in  her 
hand.  The  boy  crouched  down  to  the  earth  with  a  scream 
of  terror.  Then  a  neighbor  stepped  in,  also  with  a  marito  in 
her  arms. 

"Felicita,"  she  said,  "what  are  you  doing  to  the  child?" 

"The  child  is  mine,"  retorted  Felicita.  "I  can  murder 
him  if  I  like,  and  you,  too,  Giannina." 

And  she  swung  her  fire  pot.  The  other  lifted  up  hers  in 
self-defense,  and  the  two  pots  clashed  together  with  such 
fury  that  fragments,  fire,  and  ashes  flew  about  the  room; 
but  at  the  same  moment  the  boy  rushed  out  at  the  door, 
sped  across  the  courtyard,  and  fied  from  the  house.  The 
poor  child  ran  till  he  was  quite  out  of  breath.  He  stopped 
by  the  church,  whose  great  doors  had  opened  to  him  the 
previous  night,  and  went  in.  Everything  was  radiant.  The 
boy  knelt  down  at  the  first  grave  on  the  right  hand,  the 
grave  of  Michael  Angelo,  and  soon  he  sobbed  aloud.  Peo- 
ple came  and  went,  and  mass  Avas  performed;  but  no  one 
noticed  the  boy,  only  an  elderly  citizen  stood  still,  looked  at 
him,  and  then  went  awa}^  like  the  rest. 

Hunger  and  thirst  tormented  the  child;  he  was  quite  faint 
and  ill,  and  he  crept  into  a  corner  between  the  marble  monu- 
ments, and  went  to  sleep.  Toward  evening  he  was  awak- 
ened by  a  tug  at  his  sleeve ;  he  started  up,  and  the  same  citi- 
zen stood  before  him. 

"Are  you  ill?  Where  do  you  live?  Have  you  been  here 
all  day?"  were  three  of  the  many  questions  the  old  man 
asked  of  him. 

He  answered,  and  the  old  man  took  him  into  his  little 
house,  close  by,  in  a  back  street.  They  came  into  a  glover's 
workshop,  where  a  woman  sat  sewing  busily.  A  little  white 
Spitz  dog,  so  closely  shaven  that  his  pink  skin  could  be  seen, 
frisked  about  on  the  table  and  gamboled  before  the  boy. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY   TALES,  285 

**Innocent  souls  soon  make  acquaintance,"  said  the  wo- 
man. 

And  she  caressed  the  boy  and  the  dog.  The  good  people 
gave  the  child  food  and  drink,  and  said  he  should  be  per- 
mitted to  stay  the  night  with  them;  and  next  day  Father 
Guiseppe  would  speak  to  his  mother.  A  little  single  bed 
was  assigned  to  him,  but  for  him  who  had  often  slept  on  the 
hard  stones  it  was  a  royal  couch;  and  he  slept  sweetly,  and 
dreamed  of  the  splendid  pictures  and  of  the  Metal  Pig. 

Father  Guiseppe  went  out  next  morning;  the  poor  child 
was  not  glad  of  this,  for  he  knew  that  the  object  of  the  er- 
rand was  to  send  him  back  to  his  mother.  He  wept,  and 
kissed  the  merry  little  dog,  and  the  woman  nodded  approv- 
ingly at  both. 

What  news  did  Father  Guiseppe  bring  home?  He  spoke 
a  great  deal  with  his  wife,  and  she  nodded  and  stroked  the 
boy's  cheek. 

"He  is  a  capital  lad!"  said  she.  "He  may  become  an 
accomplished  glove  maker,  like  you;  and  look  what  deli- 
cate fingers  he  has!  Madonna  intended  him  for  a  glove 
maker." 

And  the  boy  stayed  in  the  house,  and  the  woman  herself 
taught  him  to  sew;  he  ate  well,  slept  well,  and  became  mer- 
ry, and  began  to  tease  Bellissima,  as  the  little  dog  was 
called;  but  the  woman  grew  angry  at  this,  and  scolded  and 
threatened  him  with  her  finger.  This  touched  the  boy's 
heart,  and  he  sat  thoughtful  in  his  little  chamber.  This 
chamber  looked  upon  the  street  in  which  skins  were  dried; 
there  were  thick  bars  of  iron  before  his  window.  He  could 
not  sleep,  for  the  Metal  Pig  was  always  present  in  his 
thoughts,  and  suddenly  he  heard  outside  a  pit-pat.  That 
must  be  the  Pig!  He  sprang  to  the  window,  but  nothing 
was  to  be  seen — it  had  passed  by  already. 

"Help  the  gentleman  to  carry  his  box  of  colors,"  said  the 
woman  next  morning  to  the  boy,  when  their  young  neigh- 
bor, the  artist,  passed  by,  carrying  a  paint  box  and  a  large, 
rolled  canvas. 

The  boy  took  the  box  and  followed  the  painter;  they  be- 
took themselves  to  the  gallery,  and  mounted  the  same  stair- 
case which  he  remembered  well  from  the  night  when  he  had 
ridden  on  the  Metal  Pig.  He  recognized  the  statues  and 
pictures,  the  beautiful  marble  Venus,  and  the  Venus  that 


286  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

lived  in  the  picture;  and  again  he  saw  the  Madonna,  and  the 
Savior,  and  St,  John. 

They  stood  still  before  the  picture  by  Bronzino,  in  which 
Christ  is  descending  into  hell,  and  the  children  smiling 
around  Him  in  the  sweet  expectation  of  heaven.  The  poor 
child  smiled  too,  for  he  felt  as  if  his  heaven  were  here. 

"Go  home  now,"  said  the  painter,  when  the  boy  had  stood 
until  the  other  had  set  up  his  easel. 

"May  I  see  you  paint?"  asked  the  boy.  '^May  I  see  you 
put  the  picture  upon  this  white  canvas?" 

"I  am  not  going  to  paint  yet,"  replied  the  man;  and  he 
brought  out  a  piece  of  white  chalk.  His  hand  moved 
quickly;  his  eye  measured  the  great  picture,  and  though 
nothing  appeared  but  a  thin  line,  the  figure  of  the  Savior 
stood  there,  as  in  the  colored  picture. 

"Why  don't  you  go?"  said  the  painter. 

And  the  boy  wandered  home  silently,  and  seated  himself 
on  the  table  and  learned  to  sew  gloves. 

But  all  day  long  his  thoughts  were  in  the  picture  gallery; 
and  so  it  came  that  he  pricked  his  fingers,  and  was  awk- 
ward; but  he  did  not  tease  Bellissima.  When  the  evening 
came,  and  when  the  house  door  stood  open,  he  crept  out; 
it  was  cold,  but  starlight;  a  bright,  beautiful  evening.  Away 
he  went  through  the  already  deserted  streets,  and  soon  came 
to  the  Metal  Pig.  He  bent  down  on  it,  kissed  its  shining 
mouth,  and  seated  himself  on  its  back. 

"You  happy  creature!"  he  said;  "how  I  have  longed  for 
you!     You  must  take  a  ride  to-night." 

The  Metal  Pig  lay  motionless,  and  the  fresh  stream 
gushed  forth  from  its  mouth.  The  little  boy  sat  astride  on  its 
back;  then  something  tugged  at  his  clothes.  He  looked 
down,  and  there  was  Bellissima — little  smooth-shaven  Bel- 
lissima— barking  as  if  she  would  have  said,  "Here  am  I,  too; 
why  are  you  sitting  there!"  A  fiery  dragon  could  not  have 
terrified  the  boy  so  much  as  did  the  little  dog  in  this  place. 
Bellissima  in  the  street,  and  not  dressed,  as  the  old  lady 
called  it!  What  would  be  the  end  of  it?  The  dog  never 
came  out  in  winter,  except  attired  in  a  little  lamb-skin, 
which  had  been  cut  out  and  made  into  a  coat  for  him;  it  was 
made  to  fasten  with  a  red  ribbon  round  the  little  dog's  neck 
and  body,  and  adorned  with  bows  and  with  bells.  The  dog 
looked  almost  like  a  little  kid,  when  in  winter  he  got  per- 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  287 

mission  to  patter  out  with  his  mistress.  Bellissima  was  out- 
side and  not  dressed!  what  would  be  the  end  of  it?  All  his 
fancies  were  put  to  flight;  yet  the  boy  kissed  the  Metal  Pig 
once  more,  and  then  took  Bellissima  on  his  arm;  the  little 
thing  trembled  with  cold,  therefore  the  boy  ran  as  fast  as  he 
could. 

"What  are  you  running  away  with  there?"  asked  two 
police  soldiers  whom  he  met,  and  at  whom  Bellissima 
barked.  "Where  have  you  stolen  that  pretty  dog?"  they 
asked,  and  they  took  it  away  from  him. 

"Oh,  give  it  back  to  me !"  cried  the  boy  despairingly. 

"If  you  have  not  stolen  him,  you  may  say  at  home  that 
the  dog  may  be  sent  for  from  the  watch  house."  And  they 
told  him  where  the  watch  house  was,  and  went  away  with 
Bellissima. 

Here  was  a  terrible  calamity!  The  boy  did  not  know 
whether  he  should  jump  into  the  Arno,  or  go  home  and  con- 
fess everything;  they  would  certainly  kill  him,  he  thought. 

"But  I  will  gladly  be  killed;  then  I  shall  die  and  go  to 
heaven,"  he  reasoned.  And  he  went  home,  principally  v/ith 
the  idea  of  being  killed. 

The  door  was  locked,  and  he  could  not  reach  the  knocker; 
no  one  was  in  the  street,  but  a  stone  lay  there  and  with  this 
he  thundered  at  the  door. 

"Who  is  there?"  cried  somebody  from  within. 

"It  is  I,"  said  he.  "The  dog  is  gone.  Open  the  door  and 
then  kin  me!" 

There  was  quite  a  panic.  Madame  was  especially  con- 
cerned for  poor  Bellissima.  She  immediately  looked  at  the 
wall,  where  the  dog's  dress  usually  hung,  and  there  was  the 
little  lamb-skin. 

"Bellissima  in  the  watch  house!"  she  cried  aloud.  "You 
bad  boy!  How  did  you  entice  her  out?  She'll  be  frozen, 
the  poor,  delicate  little  thing!  among  those  rough  sol- 
diers.'' 

The  father  was  at  once  dispatched — the  woman  lamented 
and  the  boy  wept.  All  the  inhabitants  of  the  house  came  to- 
gether, and  among  the  rest  the  painter;  he  took  the  boy  be- 
tween his  knees  and  questioned  him;  and  in  broken  sen- 
tences he  heard  the  whole  story  about  the  Metal  Pig  and 
the  gallery,  which  was  certainly  rather  incomprehensible. 

The  painter  consoled  the  little  fellow,  and  tried  to  calm 


288  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

the  old  lady's  anger;  but  she  would  not  be  pacified  until 
the  father  came  in  with  Bellissima,  who  had  been  among 
the  soldiers;  then  there  was  great  rejoicing;  and  the  painter 
caressed  the  boy,  and  gave  him  a  handful  of  pictures. 

Oh,  those  were  capital  pieces — such  funny  heads! — and 
truly  the  Metal  Pig  was  there  among  them,  bodily.  Oh, 
nothing  could  be  more  superb !  By  means  of  a  few  strokes 
it  was  made  to  stand  there  on  the  paper,  and  even  the  house 
that  stood  behind  it  was  sketched  in. 

Oh,  for  the  ability  to  draw  and  paint!  He  who  could  do 
this  could  conjure  up  the  whole  v^^orld  around  him! 

On  the  first  leisure  moment  of  the  following  day,  the  little 
fellow  seized  the  pencil,  and  on  the  back  of  one  of  the  pic- 
tures he  attempted  to  copy  the  drawing  of  the  Metal  Pig, 
and  he  succeeded! — it  was  certainly  rather  crooked,  rather 
up  and  down,  one  leg  thick  and  another  thin ;  but  still  it  was 
to  be  recognized,  and  he  rejoiced  himself  at  it.  The  pencil 
would  not  quite  work  as  it  should  do,  that  he  could  well  ob- 
serve; but  on  the  next  day  a  second  Metal  Pig  was  drawni 
by  the  side  of  the  first,  and  this  looked  a  hundred  times  bet- 
ter; and  the  third  was  already  so  good  that  everyone  could 
tell  what  it  was  meant  for. 

But  the  glove  making  prospered  little,  and  the  orders 
given  in  the  town  were  executed  but  slowly;  for  the  Metal 
Pig  had  taught  him  that  all  pictures  may  be  drawn  on  paper; 
and  Florence  is  a  picture  book  for  anyone  who  chooses  to 
turn  over  its  pages.  On  the  Piazza  del  Trinita  stands  a 
slender  pillar,  and  upon  it  the  Goddess  of  Justice,  blind- 
folded and  with  her  scales  in  her  hand.  Soon  she  was  placed 
upon  the  paper,  and  it  was  the  little  glove  maker's  boy  who 
placed  her  there.  The  collection  of  pictures  increased,  but 
as  yet  it  only  contained  representations  of  lifeless  objects, 
when  one  day  Bellissima  came  gamboling  before  him. 

"Stand  still!"  said  he.  "then  you  shall  be  made  beautiful 
and  put  into  my  collection." 

But  Bellissima  w'ould  not  stand  still,  so  she  had  to  be 
bound  fast;  her  head  and  tail  were  tied,  and  she  barked  and 
jumped,  and  the  string  had  to  be  pulled  tight;  and  then  the 
signora  came  in. 

"You  wicked  boy! — The  poor  creature!"  was  all  she 
could  utter. 

And  she  put  the  boy  aside,  thrust  him  away  with  her  foot, 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  289 

forbade  him  to  enter  her  house  again,  and  called  him  a  most 
ungrateful  good-for-nothing  and  a  wicked  boy;  and  then, 
weeping,  she  kissed  her  little  half-strangled  Bellissima. 

At  this  very  moment  the  painter  came  downstairs,  and 
here  is  the  turning-point  of  the  story. 

In  the  year  1834  there  was  an  exhibition  in  the  Academy 
of  Arts  at  Florence.  Two  pictures,  placed  side  by  side,  col- 
lected a  number  of  spectators.  The  smaller  of  the  two  rep- 
resented a  merry  little  boy  who  sat  drawing,  with  a  little 
white  Spitz  dog,  curiously  shorn,  for  his  model ;  but  the  ani- 
mal would  not  stand  still,  and  was  therefore  bound  by  a 
string  fastened  to  its  head  and  its  tail.  There  was  a  truth 
and  life  in  this  picture  that  interested  everyone.  The  painter 
was  said  to  be  a  young  Florentine,  who  had  been  found  in 
the  streets  in  his  childhood,  had  been  brought  up  by  an  old 
glove  maker,  and  had  taught  himself  to  draw.  It  was  fur- 
ther said  that  a  painter,  now  become  famous,  had  discov- 
ered this  talent  just  as  the  boy  was  to  be  sent  away  for 
tying  up  the  favorite  little  dog  of  Madame,  and  using  it  as 
a  model. 

The  glove  maker's  boy  had  become  a  great  painter;  the 
picture  proved  this,  and  still  more  the  larger  picture  that 
stood  beside  it.  Here  was  represented  onl}^  one  figure,  a 
handsome  boy,  clad  in  rags,  asleep  in  the  street,  and  leaning 
against  the  Metal  Pig  in  the  Porta  Rosa  street.  All  the 
spectators  knew  the  spot.  The  child's  arms  rested  upon  the 
head  of  the  Pig;  the  little  fellow  was  fast  asleep,  and  the 
lamp  before  the  picture  of  the  Madonna  threw  a  strong 
effective  light  on  the  pale,  delicate  face  of  the  child — it  was 
a  beautiful  picture!  A  great  gilt  frame  surrounded  it,  and 
on  one  corner  of  the  frame  a  laurel  wreath  had  been  hung; 
but  a  black  band  wound  unseen  among  the  green  leaves, 
and  a  streamer  of  crape  hung  down  from  it.  For  within 
the  last  few  days  the  young  artist  had — died! 


19 


290  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 


THE  SNOW  QUEEN. 

IN    SEVEN  STORIES. 


THE  FIRST  STORY. 
WHICH  TREATS  OF  THE  MIRROR  AND  FRAGMENTS. 

Look  you,  now  we're  going  to  begin.  When  we  are  at  the 
end  of  the  story  we  shall  know  more  than  we  do  now,  for  he 
was  a  bad  goblin.  He  was  one  of  the  very  worst,  for  he 
was  a  demon.  One  day  he  was  in  very  good  spirits,  for  he 
had  made  a  mirror  which  had  this  peculiarity,  that  every- 
thing good  and  beautiful  that  was  reflected  in  it  shrank  to- 
gether into  almost  nothing,  but  that  whatever  was  worthless 
and  looked  ugly  became  prominent  and  looked  worse  than 
ever.  The  most  lovely  landscapes  seen  in  this  mirror  looked 
like  boiled  spinach,  and  the  best  people  became  hideous,  or 
stood  on  their  heads  and  had  no  bodies;  their  faces  were  so 
distorted  as  to  be  unrecognizable,  and  a  single  freckle  was 
shown  spread  out  over  nose  and  mouth.  That  was  very 
amusing,  the  demon  said.  When  a  good,  pious  thought 
passed  through  any  person's  mind,  these  were  again  shown 
in  the  mirror,  so  that  the  demon  chuckled  at  his  artistic  in- 
vention. Those  who  visited  the  goblin  school — for  he  kept 
a  goblin  school — declared  everywhere  that  a  wonder  had 
been  wrought.  For  now,  they  asserted,  one  could  see,  for 
the  first  time,  how  the  world  and  the  people  in  it  really 
looked.  Now  they  wanted  to  i\y  up  to  heaven,  to  sneer  and 
scoff  at  the  angels  themselves.  The  higher  they  flew  with 
the  mirror,  the  more  it  grinned;  they  could  scarcely  hold  it 
fast.  They  flew  higher  and  higher,  and  then  the  mirror 
trembled  so  terribly  amid  its  grinning  that  it  fell  down  out  of 
their  hands  to  the  earth,  where  it  was  shattered  into  a  hun- 
dred million  and  more  fragments.  And  now  this  mirror 
occasioned  much  more  unhappiness  than  before;  for  some 
of  the  fragments  were  scarcely  so  large  as  a  barleycorn,  and 
these   flew  about  in  the  world,  and  whenever  thev  flew  into 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  291 

anyone's  eye  they  stuck  there,  and  those  people  saw  every- 
thing wrongly,  or  had  only  eyes  for  the  bad  side  of  a  thing, 
for  every  little  fragment  of  the  mirror  had  retained  the 
power  which  the  whole  glass  possessed.  A  few  persons 
even  got  a  fragment  of  the  mirror  into  their  hearts,  and  that 
was  terrible  indeed,  for  such  a  heart  became  a  block  of  ice. 
A  few  fragments  of  the  mirror  were  so  large  that  they  were 
used  as  window  panes,  but  it  was  a  bad  thing  to  look  at  one's 
friends  through  these  panes;  other  pieces  were  made  into 
spectacles,  and  then  it  went  badly  when  people  put  on  these 
spectacles  to  see  rightly,  and  to  be  just;  and  then  the  demon 
laughed  till  his  paunch  shook,  for  it  tickled  him  so.  But 
without,  some  little  fragments  of  glass  still  floated  about  in 
the  air— and  now  we  shall  hear 


THE  SECOND  STORY. 
A  LITTLE  BOY  AND  A  LITTLE  GIRL. 

In  the  great  town,  where  there  are  many  houses,  and  so 
many  people  that  there  is  not  room  enough  for  everyone  to 
have  a  little  garden,  and  where  consequently  most  persons 
are  compelled  to  be  content  with  some  flowers  in  flower 
pots,  were  two  poor  children  who  possessed  a  garden  some- 
what larger  than  a  flower  pot.  They  were  not  brother  and 
sister,  but  they  loved  each  other  quite  as  much  as  if  they  had 
been.  Their  parents  lived  just  opposite  each  other  in  two 
garrets,  there  where  the  roof  of  one  neighbor's  house  joined 
that  of  another;  and  where  the  water-pipe  ran  between  the 
two  houses  was  a  little  window;  one  had  only  to  step  across 
the  pipe  to  get  from  one  window  to  the  other. 

The  parents  of  each  child  had  a  great  box,  in  which  grew 
kitchen  herbs  that  they  used,  and  a  little  rose  bush;  there 
was  one  in  each  box,  and  they  grew  famously.  Now,  it  oc- 
curred to  the  parents  to  place  the  boxes  across  the  pipe,  so 
that  they  reached  from  one  window  to  another,  and  looked 
quite  like  two  embankments  of  flowers.  Pea  plants  hung 
down  over  the  boxes,  and  the  rose  bushes  shot  forth  long 
twigs,  which  clustered  round  the  windows  and  bent  down 
toward  each  other;  it  was  aimost  like  a  triumphal  arch  of 
flowers  and  leaves.    A§  the  boj^es  were  very  highj  and  the 


292  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

children  knew  that  they  might  not  creep  upon  them,  they 
often  obtained  permission  to  step  out  upon  the  roof  behind 
the  boxes,  and  to  sit  upon  their  Httle  stools  under  the  roses, 
and  there  they  could  play  capitally. 

In  the  winter  time  there  was  an  end  of  this  amusement. 
The  windows  were  sometimes  quite  frozen  all  over.  But 
then  they  warmed  copper  shillings  on  the  stove,  and  held 
the  warm  coins  against  the  frozen  pane;  and  this  made  a 
capital  peep-hole,  so  round!  so  round!  and  behind  it  gleamed 
a  pretty  mild  eye  at  each  window;  and  these  eyes  belonged 
to  the  little  boy  and  the  little  girl.  His  name  was  Kay  and 
the  little  girl's  was  Gerda. 

In  the  summer  they  could  get  to  one  another  at  one 
bound;  but  in  the  winter  they  had  to  go  down  and  up  the 
long  staircase,  while  the  snow  was  pelting  without. 

"Those  are  the  white  bees  swarming,"  said  the  old  grand- 
mother. 

"Have  they  a  Queen  bee?"  asked  the  little  boy.  For  he 
knew  that  there  is  one  among  the  real  bees. 

"Yes,  they  have  one,"  replied  grandmamma.  "She  al- 
ways flies  where  they  swarm  thickest.  She  is  the  largest  of 
them  all,  and  never  rem.ains  quiet  upon  the  earth;  she  flies 
up  again  into  the  black  cloud.  Many  a  midnight  she  is  fly- 
ing through  the  streets  of  the  town,  and  looks  in  at  the  win- 
dows, and  then  they  freeze  in  such  a  strange  way,  and  look 
like  fiowers." 

"Yes,  I've  seen  that!"  cried  both  the  children;  and  now 
they  knew  that  it  was  true. 

"Can  the  Snow  Queen  come  in  here?"  asked  the  little 
girl. 

"Only  let  her  come,"  cried  the  boy;  "I'll  set  her  upon  the 
warm  stove,  and  then  she'll  melt." 

But  grandmother  smoothed  his  hair,  and  told  some  other 
tales.  In  the  evening,  when  little  Kay  was  at  home  and  half 
undressed,  he  clambered  upon  the  chair  by  the  window,  and 
looked  through  the  little  hole.  A  few  flakes  of  snow  were 
falling  outside,  and  one  of  them,  the  largest  of  them  all,  re- 
mained lying  on  the  edge  of  one  of  the  flower  boxes.  The 
snowflakes  grew  larger  and  larger,  and  at  last  became  a 
maiden  clothed  in  the  finest  white  gauze,  put  together  of 
millions  of  starry  flakes.  She  was  beautiful  and  delicate, 
but  of  ice — of  shining  glittering  ice.     Yet  she  was  alive; 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES.  293 

her  eyes  flashed  hke  two  cleas  stars,  but  there  was  no  peace 
or  rest  in  them.  She  nodded  toward  the  window,  and  beck- 
oned with  her  hand.  The  httle  boy  was  frightened,  and 
sprang  down  h'om  the  chair;  then  it  seemed  as  if  a  great  bird 
flew  by  outside,  in  front  of  the  window. 

Next  day  there  was  a  clear  frost,  and  then  the  spring 
came;  the  sun  shone,  the  green  sprouted  forth,  the  swal- 
lows built  nests,  the  windows  were  opened,  and  the  little 
children  again  sat  in  their  garden  high  up  in  the  roof,  over 
all  the  floors. 

How  splendidly  the  roses  bloomed  this  summer!  The 
little  girl  had  learned  a  psalm,  in  which  mention  was  made  of 
roses,  and,  in  speaking  of  roses,  she  thought  of  her  own; 
and  she  sang  it  to  the  little  boy,  and  he  sang,  too : 

"The  roses  will  fade  and  pass  away. 
But  we  the  Christ-child  shall  see  one  day." 

And  the  little  ones  held  each  other  by  the  hand,  kissed  the 
roses,  looked  at  God's  bright  sunshine,  and  spoke  to  it,  as  if 
the  Christ-child  were  there.  What  splendid  summer  days 
those  were!  How  beautiful  it  was  without,  among  the 
fresh  rose  bushes,  which  seemed  as  if  they  would  never 
leave  off  blooming! 

Kay  and  Gerda  sat  and  looked  at  the  picture-book  of 
beasts  and  birds.  Then  it  was,  while  the  clock  was  just 
striking  twelve  on  the  church  tower,  that  Kay  said: 

'"Oh!  something  struck  my  heart  and  pricked  me  in  the 
eye."  The  little  girl  fell  upon  his  neck;  he  blinked  his  eyes. 
No,  there  was  nothing  at  all  to  be  seen. 

"I  think  it  is  gone,"  said  he;  but  it  was  not  gone.  It  was 
just  one  of  those  glass  fragments  which  sprang  from  the  mir- 
ror— the  magic  mirror  that  we  remember  well,  the  ugly 
glass  that  made  everything  great  and  good  which  was  mir- 
rored in  it  to  seem  small  and  mean,  but  in  which  the  mean 
and  the  wicked  things  were  brought  out  in  relief,  and  every 
fault  was  noticeable  at  once.  Poor  little  Kay  had  also  re- 
ceived a  splinter  just  in  his  heart,  and  that  will  now  soon  be- 
come like  a  lump  of  ice.  It  did  not  hurt  him  now,  but  the 
splinter  was  still  there. 

"Why  do  you  cry?"  he  asked.  "You  look  ugly  like  that. 
There's  nothing  the  matter  with  me.     Oh,  fie!"  he  suddenly 


294  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

exclaimed,  "that  rose  is  worm-eaten,  and  this  one  is  quite 
crooked.  After  all,  they're  ugly  roses.  They're  like  the 
box  in  which  they  stand. 

And  then  he  kicked  the  box  with  his  foot,  and  tore  both 
the  roses  off. 

"Kay,  what  are  you  about?"  cried  the  little  girl. 

And  when  he  noticed  her  fright  he  tore  off  another  rose, 
and  then  sprang  in  at  his  own  window,  away  from  pretty 
little  Gerda. 

When  she  afterward  came  with  her  picture-book,  he  said 
it  was  only  fit  for  babies  in  arms ;  and  when  his  grandmother 
told  stories  he  always  came  in  with  a  but;  and  when  he  could 
manage  it,  he  would  get  behind  her,  put  on  a  pair  of  spec- 
tacles, and  talk  just  as  she  did;  he  could  do  that  very  clev- 
erly, and  the  people  laughed  at  him.  Soon  he  could  mimic 
the  speech  and  gait  of  everybody  in  the  street.  Every- 
thing that  was  peculiar  or  ugly  about  him,  Kay  would  imi- 
tate; and  people  said:  "That  boy  must  certainly  have  a  re- 
markable genius."  But  it  was  the  glass  that  struck  deep  in 
his  heart;  so  it  happened  that  he  even  teased  little  Gerda, 
who  loved  him  with  all  her  heart. 

His  games  now  became  quite  dififerent  from  what  they 
were  before;  they  became  quite  sensible.  One  winter's  day 
when  it  snowed  he  came  out  with  a  great  burning-glass, 
held  up  the  blue  tail  of  his  coat,  and  let  the  snowflakes  fall 
upon  it. 

"Now  look  at  the  glass,  Gerda,"  said  he. 

And  every  flake  of  snow  was  magnified,  and  looked  like  a 
splendid  iiower,  or  a  star  with  ten  points;  it  was  beautiful  to 
behold. 

"See  how  clever  that  is,"  said  Kay.  "That's  much  more 
interesting  than  real  flowers;  and  there's  not  a  single  fault 
in  it — they're  quite  regular  until  they  begin  to  melt." 

Soon  after  Kay  came  in  thick  gloves,  and  with  his  sledge 
upon  his  back.  He  called  up  to  Gerda,  "I've  got  leave  to  go 
into  the  great  square,  where  the  other  boys  play,"  and  he 
was  gone. 

In  the  great  square  the  boldest  among  the  boys  often  tied 
their  sledges  to  the  country  people's  carts,  and  thus  rode 
with  them  a  good  way.  They  went  capitally.  When  they 
were  in  the  midst  of  their  playing  there  came  a  great  sledge. 
It  was  painted  quite  white,  and  in  it  sat  somebody  wrapped 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY   TALES.  295 

in  a  rough  white  fur,  and  with  a  white,  rough  cap  on  his 
head.  The  sledge  drove  twice  round  the  square,  and  Kay 
bound  his  httle  sledge  to  it,  and  so  he  drove  on  with  it.  It 
went  faster  and  faster,  straight  into  the  next  street.  The 
man  who  drove  turned  round  and  nodded  in  a  familiar  way 
to  Kay;  it  was  as  if  they  knew  one  another;  each  time  when 
Kay  wanted  to  cast  loose  his  little  sledge,  the  stranger  nod- 
ded again,  and  then  Kay  remained  where  he  was,  and  thus 
they  drove  out  at  the  town  gate.  Then  the  snow  began  to 
fall  so  rapidly  that  the  boy  could  not  see  a  hand's  breadth 
before  him,  but  still  he  drove  on.  Now  he  hastily  dropped 
the  cord,  so  as  to  get  loose  from  the  great  sledge,  but  that 
was  no  use,  for  his  sledge  was  fast  bound  to  the  other,  and 
they  went  on  like  the  wind.  Then  he  called  out  quite  loud- 
ly, but  nobody  heard  him;  and  the  snow  beat  down,  and  the 
sledge  flew  onward;  every  now  and  then  it  gave  a  jump,  and 
they  seemed  to  be  flying  over  hedges  and  ditches.  The  boy 
was  quite  frightened.  He  wanted  to  say  his  prayer,  but 
could  remember  nothing  but  the  multiplication  table. 

The  snowflakes  became  larger  and  larger;  at  last  they 
looked  like  white  fowls.  All  at  once  they  sprang  aside  and 
the  great  sledge  stopped,  and  the  person  who  had  driven  it 
rose  up.  The  fur  and  the  cap  were  made  altogether  of  ice. 
It  was  a  lady,  tall  and  slender,  and  brilliantly  white;  it  was 
the  Snow  Queen. 

"We  have  driven  well!''  said  she.  "But  why  do  you 
tremble  with  cold?     Creep  into  my  fur." 

And  she  seated  him  beside  her  in  her  own  sledge,  and 
wrapped  the  fur  round  him,  and  he  felt  as  if  he  sank  into  a 
snowdrift. 

"Are  you  still  cold?"  asked  she,  and  then  she  kissed  him 
on  the  forehead. 

Oh,  that  was  colder  than  ice ;  it  went  quite  through  to  his 
heart,  half  of  which  was  already  a  lump  of  ice;  he  felt  as  if 
he  were  going  to  die;  but  only  for  a  moment;  for  then  he 
seemed  quite  well,  and  he  did  not  notice  the  cold  all  about 
him. 

"My  sledge!  don't  forget  my  sledge." 

That  was  the  first  thing  he  thought  of;  and  it  was  bound 
fast  to  one  of  the  white  chickens,  and  this  chicken  flew  be- 
hind him  with  the  sledge  upon  its  back.     The  Snow  Queen 


296  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

kissed  Kay  again,  and  then  he  had  forgotten  httle  Gerda, 
his  grandmother,  and  all  at  home. 

"Now  you  shall  have  no  more  kisses,"  said  she,  "for  if  you 
did  I  should  kiss  you  to  death." 

Kay  looked  at  her.  She  was  so  beautiful,  he  could  not 
imagine  a  more  sensible  or  lovely  face;  she  did  not  appear  to 
him  to  be  made  of  ice  now  as  before,  when  she  sat  at  the 
window  and  beckoned  to  him.  In  his  eyes  she  was  perfect; 
he  did  not  feel  at  all  afraid.  He  told  her  that  he  could  do 
mental  arithmetic  as  far  as  fractions ;  that  he  knew  the  num- 
ber of  square  miles  and  the  number  of  inhabitants  in  the 
country.  And  she  always  smiled,  and  then  it  seemed  to  him 
that  what  he  knew  was  not  enough,  and  he  looked  up  into 
the  wide  sky,  and  she  flew  with  him  high  up  upon  the  black 
cloud,  and  the  storm  blew  and  whistled ;  it  seemed  as  though 
the  wind  sang  old  songs.  They  flew  over  woods  and  lakes, 
over  sea  and  land;  below  them  roared  the  cold  wind,  the 
wolves  howled,  the  snow  crackled;  over  them  flew  the  black, 
screaming  crows;  but  above  all  the  moon  shone  bright  and 
clear,  and  Kay  looked  at  the  long,  long  winter  night;  by  day 
he  slept  at  the  feet  of  the  Queen. 


THE  THIRD  STORY. 

THE  FLOWER  GARDEN  OF  THE  WOMAN  WHO  COULD 
CONJURE. 

But  how  did  it  fare  with  little  Gerda  when  Kay  did  not 
return?  What  could  have  become  of  him?  No  one  knew, 
no  one  could  give  information.  The  boys  only  told  that 
thev  had  seen  him  bind  his  sledge  to  another  very  large  one, 
which  had  driven  along  the  street  and  out  at  the  town  gate. 
Nobody  knew  what  had  become  of  him;  many  tears  were 
shed,  and  little  Gerda  especially  wept  long  and  bitterly; 
then  she  said  he  was  dead — he  had  been  drowned  in  the 
river,  which  flowed  close  by  their  school.  Oh,  those  were 
very  dark,  long  wintry  days!  But  now  spring  came,  with 
warmer  sunshine. 

"Kay  is  dead  and  gone,"  said  little  Gerda. 

"I  don't  believe  it,"  said  the  Sunshine. 

"He  is  dead  and  gone,"  said  she  to  the  Sparrows. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  297 

"We  don't  believe  it,"  they  replied;  and  at  last  little  Gerda 
did  not  believe  it  herself. 

"I  will  put  on  my  new  red  shoes,"  she  said  one  morning, 
"those  that  Kay  has  never  seen;  and  then  I  will  go  down  to 
the  river,  and  ask  for  him." 

It  w-as  still  very  early;  she  kissed  the  old  grandmother, 
who  was  still  asleep,  put  on  her  red  shoes,  and  went  quite 
alone  out  of  the  town  gate  toward  the  river. 

"Is  it  true  that  you  have  taken  my  little  playmate  from 
me?  I  will  give  you  my  red  shoes  if  you  will  give  him  back 
to  me!" 

And  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  the  waves  nodded  quite  strange- 
ly; and  then  she  took  her  red  shoes,  that  she  liked  best  of 
anything  she  possessed,  and  threw  them  both  into  the  river; 
but  they  fell  close  to  the  shore,  and  the  little  wavelets  carried 
them  back  to  her,  to  the  land.  It  seemed  as  if  the  river 
would  not  take  from  her  the  dearest  things  she  possessed 
because  he  had  not  her  little  Kay ;  but  she  thought  she  had 
not  thrown  the  shoes  far  enough  out;  so  she  crept  into  a 
boat  that  lay  among  the  reeds,  she  went  to  the  other  end  of 
the  boat,  and  threw  the  shoes  from  thence  into  the  water; 
but  the  boat  was  not  bound  fast,  and  at  the  movement  she 
made  it  glided  away  from  the  shore.  She  noticed  it,  and 
hurried  to  get  back,  but  before  she  reached  the  other  end  the 
boat  was  a  yard  from  the  bank,  and  it  drifted  away  faster 
than  before. 

Then  little  Gerda  was  very  much  frightened,  and  began  to 
cry;  but  no  one  heard  her  except  the  Sparrows,  and  they 
could  not  carry  her  to  land ;  but  they  flew  along  by  the  shore, 
and  sang,  as  if  to  console  her,  "Here  we  are!  here  we  are!" 
The  boat  drove  on  with  the  stream,  and  little  Gerda  sat  quite 
still,  with  only  her  stockings  on  her  feet;  her  little  red  shoes 
floated  along  behind  her,  but  they  could  not  come  up  to  the 
boat,  for  that  made  more  way. 

It  was  very  pretty  on  both  shores.  There  were  beautiful 
flowers,  old  trees,  and  slopes  with  sheep  and  cows;  but  not 
one  person  was  to  be  seen. 

"Perhaps  the  river  will  carry  me  to  little  Kay,''  thought 
Gerda. 

And  then  she  became  more  cheerful,  and  rose  up ;  and  for 
many  hours  she  watched  the  charming  green  banks;  then 
she  came  to  a  great  cherry  orchard,  in  which  stood  a  little 


298  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

house  with  remarkable  blue  and  red  windows;  it  had  a 
thatched  roof,  and  without  stood  two  wooden  soldiers,  who 
presented  arms  to  those  who  sailed  past. 

Gerda  called  to  them,  for  she  thought  they  were  alive,  but 
of  course  they  did  not  answer.  She  came  quite  close  to 
them.     The  river  carried  the  boat  toward  the  shore. 

Gerda  called  still  louder,  and  then  there  came  out  of  the 
house  an  old  woman  leaning  on  a  crutch ;  she  had  on  a  great 
velvet  hat,  painted  over  with  the  finest  flowers. 

"You  poor  little  child !"  said  the  old  woman,  "how  did  you 
manage  to  come  on  the  great  rolling  river,  and  to  float  thus 
far  out  into  the  world?" 

And  then  the  old  woman  went  quite  into  the  water,  seized 
the  boat  with  her  crutch  stick,  drew  it  to  land,  and  lifted 
little  Gerda  out.  And  Gerda  was  glad  to  be  on  dry  land 
again,  though  she  felt  a  little  afraid  of  the  strange  old  wo- 
man. 

"Come  and  tell  me  who  you  are,  and  how  you  came  here," 
said  the  old  lady.  And  Gerda  told  her  everything;  and  the 
old  woman  shook  her  head,  and  said,  "Hem!  hem!"  And 
when  Gerda  had  told  everything,  and  asked  if  she  had  not 
seen  little  Kay,  the  woman  said  that  he  had  not  yet  come  by, 
but  that  he  probably  would  soon  come.  Gerda  was  not  to 
be  sorrowful,  but  to  look  at  the  flowers  and  taste  the  cher- 
ries, for  they  were  better  than  any  picture-book,  for  each 
one  of  them  could  tell  a  story.  Then  she  took  Gerda  by  the 
hand  and  led  her  into  the  little  house,  and  the  old  woman 
locked  the  door. 

The  windows  were  very  high,  and  the  panes  were  red, 
blue,  and  yellow;  the  daylight  shone  in  a  remarkable  way, 
with  different  colors.  On  the  table  stood  the  finest  cherries, 
and  Gerda  ate  as  many  of  them  as  she  liked,  for  she  had 
leave  to  do  so.  While  she  was  eating  them,  the  old  lady 
combed  her  hair  with  a  golden  comb,  and  the  hair  hung 
in  ringlets  of  pretty  yellow  round  the  friendly  little  face, 
which  looked  as  blooming  as  a  rose. 

"I  have  long  wished  for  such  a  dear  little  girl  as  you," 
said  the  old  lady.  "Now  you  shall  see  how  well  we  shall 
live  with  one  another." 

And  as  the  ancient  dame  combed  her  hair,  Gerda  forgot 
her  adopted  brother  Kay  more  and  more;  for  this  old  wo- 
man could  conjure,  but  she  was  not  a  wicked  witch.     She 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES.  299 

only  practiced  a  little  magic  for  her  own  amusement,  and 
wanted  to  keep  little  Gerda.  Therefore  she  went  into  the 
garden,  stretched  out  her  crutch  toward  all  the  rose  bushes, 
and,  beautiful  as  they  were,  they  all  sank  into  the  earth,  and 
one  could  not  tell  where  they  had  stood.  The  old  woman 
was  afraid  that,  if  the  little  girl  saw  roses,  she  would  think 
of  her  own,  and  remember  little  Kay,  and  run  away. 

Now  Gerda  was  led  out  into  the  flower  garden.  What 
fragrance  was  there,  and  what  loveliness!  Every  conceiv- 
able flower  was  there  in  full  bloom;  there  were  some  for 
every  season;  no  picture  book  could  be  gayer  and  pret- 
tier. Gerda  jumped  high  for  joy,  and  played  till  the  sun 
went  down  behind  the  high  cherry  trees;  then  she  was  put 
into  a  lovely  bed,  with  red  silk  pillows  stuffed  with  blue 
violets,  and  she  slept  there,  and  dreamed  as  glorious  as  a 
Queen  on  her  wedding  day. 

One  day  she  played  again  with  the  flowers  in  the  warm 
sunshine;  and  thus  many  days  went  by.  Gerda  knew 
every  flower;  but,  as  many  as  there  were  of  them,  it  still 
seemed  to  her  as  if  one  were  wanting,  but  which  one  she 
did  not  know.  One  day  she  sat  looking  at  the  old  lady's  hat 
with  the  painted  flowers,  and  the  prettiest  of  them  all  was 
a  rose.  The  old  lady  had  forgotten  to  efface  it  from  her  hat 
when  she  caused  the  others  to  disappear.  But  so  it  always 
is  when  one  does  not  keep  one's  wits  about  one. 

"What,  are  there  no  roses  here?"  cried  Gerda. 

And  she  went  among  the  beds,  and  searched  and 
searched,  but  there  was  not  one  to  be  found.  Then  she  sat 
down  and  wept;  her  tears  fell  just  upon  a  spot  where  a  rose- 
bud lay  buried,  and  when  the  warm  tears  moistened  the 
earth,  the  tree  at  once  sprouted  up  as  blooming  as  when  it 
had  sunk;  and  Gerda  embraced  it,  and  kissed  the  Roses, 
and  thought  of  the  beautiful  roses  at  home,  and  also  of 
little  Kay. 

"Oh,  how  I  have  been  detained!"  said  the  little  girl.  'T 
wanted  to  seek  for  little  Kay!  Do  you  not  know  where  he 
is?"  she  asked  the  Roses.    "Do  you  think  he  is  dead?" 

"He  is  not  dead,''  the  Roses  answered.  "We  have  been  in 
the  ground.  All  the  dead  people  are  there,  but  Kay  is  not 
there." 

"Thank  you,"  said  little  Gerda,  and  she  went  to  the  other 


300  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

flowers,  looked  into  their  cups,  and  asked,  "Do  you  know 
where  Httle  Kay  is?" 

But  every  flower  stood  in  the  sun  thinking  only  of  her 
own  story  or  fancy  tale.  Gerda  heard  many,  many  of 
them;  but  not  one  knew  anything  of  Kay, 

And  what  did  the  Tiger-lily  say? 

"Do  you  hear  the  drum  *Rub-dub'?  There  are  only  two 
notes,  always  'rub-dub!'  Hear  the  mourning  song  of  the 
women;  hear  the  call  of  the  priests.  The  Hindoo  widow 
stands  in  her  long  red  mantel  on  the  funeral  pile ;  the  flames 
rise  up  around  her  and  her  dead  husband;  but  the  Hindoo 
woman  is  thinking  of  the  living  one  here  in  the  circle,  of 
him  whose  eyes  burn  hotter  than  flames,  whose  fiery  glances 
have  burned  in  her  soul  more  ardently  than  the  flames  them- 
selves, which  are  soon  to  burn  her  body  to  ashes.  Can  the 
flame  of  heart  die  in  the  flame  of  the  funeral  pile?" 

'T  don't  understand  that  at  all !"   said  little  Gerda. 

''That's  my  story,"  said  the  lily. 

What  says  the  Convolvulus? 

"Over  the  narrow  road  looms  an  old  knightly  castle; 
thickly  the  ivy  grows  over  the  crumbling  red  walls,  leaf 
by  leaf  up  to  the  balcony,  and  there  stands  a  beautiful  girl; 
she  bends  over  the  balustrade  and  glances  up  the  road.  No 
rose  on  its  branch  is  fresher  than  she;  no  apple  blossoms 
wafted  onward  by  the  wind  floats  more  lightly  along.  How 
her  costly  silks  rustle!    'Comes  he  not  yet?'  " 

'Ts  it  Kay  whom  you  mean?"   asked  little  Gerda. 

"I'm  only  speaking  of  a  story— my  dream,"  replied  the 
Convolvulus. 

What  said  the  little  Snowdrop? 

"Between  the  trees  a  long  board  hangs  by  ropes;  that  is  a 
swing.  Two  pretty  little  girls,  with  clothes  white  as  snow 
and  long  green  silk  ribbons  on  their  hats,  are  sitting  upon 
it,  swinging;  their  brother,  who  is  greater  than  they,  stands 
in  the  swing,  and  has  slung  his  arm  rovmd  the  rope  to  hold 
himself,  for  in  one  hand  he  has  a  little  saucer,  and  in  the 
other  a  clay  pipe;  he  is  blowing  bubbles.  The  swing  flies, 
and  the  bubbles  rise  with  beautiful,  changing  colors;  the 
last  still  hangs  from  the  pipe  bowl,  swaying  in  the  wind. 
The  swing  flies  on;  the  little  black  dog,  light  as  the  bubbles, 
stands  up  on  his  hind  legs,  and  wants  to  be  taken  into  the 
swing;  it  flies  on,  and  the  dog  falls,  barks,  and  grows  angry, 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES.  301 

for  he  is  teased,  and  the  bubble  bursts.  A  swinging  board 
and  a  bursting  bubble — that  is  my  song." 

"It  may  be  very  pretty,  what  you're  telling,  but  you  speak 
it  so  mournfully,  and  you  don't  mention  little  Kay  at  all." 

What  do  the  Hyacinths  say? 

"There  were  three  beautiful  sisters,  transparent  and  deli- 
cate. The  dress  of  one  was  red,  that  of  the  second  blue, 
and  that  of  the  third  quite  white ;  hand  in  hand  they  danced 
by  the  calm  lake  in  the  bright  moonlight.  They  were  not 
elves;  they  were  human  beings.  It  was  so  sweet  and  fra- 
grant there!  The  girls  disappeared  in  the  forest,  and  the 
sweet  fragrance  became  stronger;  three  cofhns,  with  three 
beautiful  maidens  lying  in  them,  glided  from  the  wood- 
thicket  across  the  lake;  the  glow-worms  flew  gleaming 
about  them  like  little  hovering  lights.  Are  the  dancing 
girls  sleeping,  or  are  they  dead?  The  flower  scent  says  they 
are  dead,  and  the  evening  bell  tolls  their  knell." 

"You  make  me  quite  sorrowful,"  said  little  Gerda.  "You 
scent  so  strongly,  I  cannot  help  thinking  of  the  dead  maid- 
ens. Ah!  is  little  Kay  really  dead?  The  Roses  have  been 
down  in  the  earth,  and  they  say  no." 

"Kling!  klang!"  tolled  the  Hyacinth  Bells.  "We  are 
not  tolling  for  little  Kay — -we  don't  know  him ;  we  only  sing 
our  song,  the  only  one  we  know." 

And  Gerda  went  to  the  Buttercup,  gleaming  forth  from 
the  green  leaves. 

"You  are  a  little  bright  sun,"  said  Gerda.  "Tell  me,  if 
you  know,  where  I  may  find  my  companion.'' 

And  the  Buttercup  shone  so  gayly,  and  looked  back  at 
Gerda.  What  song  might  the  Buttercup  sing?  It  was  not 
about  Kay. 

"In  a  little  courtyard  the  clear  sun  shone  warm  on  the 
first  day  of  spring.  The  sunbeams  glided  down  the  white 
wall  of  the  neighboring  house;  close  by  grew  the  first  yel- 
low flower,  glancing  like  gold  in  the  bright  sun's  ray.  The 
old  grandmother  sat  out  of  doors  in  her  chair;  her  grand- 
daughter, a  poor,  handsome  maidservant,  was  coming  home 
for  a  short  visit;  she  kissed  her  grandmother.  There  was 
gold,  heart's  gold,  in  that  blessed  kiss,  gold  in  the  mouth, 
gold  in  the  south,  gold  in  the  morning  hour.  See,  that's  my 
little  story,"  said  the  Buttercup. 

"My  poor  old  grandmother!"    sighed  Gerda.     "Yes,  she 


302  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

is  surely  longing  for  me  and  grieving  for  me,  just  as  she 
did  for  little  Kay.  But  I  shall  soon  go  home  and  take  Kay 
with  me.  There  is  no  use  of  my  asking  the  flowers,  they 
only  know  their  own  song,  and  give  me  no  information." 
And  then  she  tied  her  little  frock  round  her,  that  she  might 
run  the  faster;  but  the  Jonquil  struck  against  her  leg  as 
she  sprang  over  it,  and  she  stopped  to  look  at  the  tall  yellow 
flower,  and  asked,  "Do  you,  perhaps,  know  anything  of  lit- 
tle Kay?" 

And  she  bent  quite  down  to  the  flower,  and  what  did  it 
say? 

"I  can  see  myself!  I  can  see  myself!"  said  the  Jonquil. 
"Oh!  oh!  how  I  smell!  Up  in  the  little  room  in  the  gable 
stands  a  little  dancing  girl;  she  stands  sometimes  on  one 
foot,  sometimes  on  both;  she  seems  to  tread  on  all  the 
world.  She's  nothing  but  an  ocular  delusion;  she  pours 
water  out  of  a  tea  pot  on  a  bit  of  stuff — it  is  her  bodice. 
'Cleanliness  is  a  fine  thing,'  she  says;  her  white  frock  hangs 
on  a  hook;  it  has  been  washed  in  the  tea  pot,  too,  and  dried 
on  the  roof;  she  puts  it  on  and  ties  her  safifron  handkerchief 
round  her  neck,  and  the  dress  looks  all  the  whiter.  Point 
your  toes!  look  how  she  seems  to  stand  on  a  stalk.  I  can 
see  myself!    I  can  see  myself!" 

"I  don't  care  at  all  about  that,"  said  Gerda.  "You  need 
not  tell  me  that." 

And  then  she  ran  to  the  end  of  the  garden.  The  door 
was  locked,  but  she  pressed  against  the  rusty  lock,  and  it 
broke  off,  the  door  sprang  open,  and  little  Gerda  ran  with 
naked  feet  out  into  the  wide  world.  She  looked  back  three 
times,  but  no  one  was  there  to  pursue  her;  at  last  she  could 
run  no  longer,  and  seated  herself  on  a  great  stone,  and 
when  she  looked  round  the  summer  was  over — it  was  late 
in  autumn;  one  could  not  notice  that  in  the  beautiful  garden, 
where  there  was  always  sunshine,  and  the  flowers  of  every 
season  always  bloomed. 

"Alas!  how  I  have  loitered!"  said  little  Gerda.  "Autumn 
has  come.    I  may  not  rest  again." 

And  she  rose  up  to  go  on.  Oh!  how  sore  and  tired  her 
little  feet  were.  All  around  it  looked  cold  and  bleak;  the 
long  Vi^illow  leaves  were  quite  yellow,  and  the  dew  fell  down 
like  water;  one  leaf  after  another  dropped;  only  the  sole- 
thorn  still  bore  fruit,  but  the  §loes  were  sour,  and  set  the 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  303 

teeth  on  edge.    Oh!  how  gray  and  gloomy  it  looked,  the 
wide  world! 

THE  FOURTH  STORY. 
THE  PRINCE  AND  PRINCESS. 

Gerda  was  compelled  to  rest  again;  then  there  came  hop- 
ping across  the  snow,  just  opposite  the  spot  where  she  was 
sitting,  a  great  Crow.  This  Crow  stopped  a  long  time  to 
look  at  her,  nodding  its  head — now  it  said,  "Krah!  krah! 
Good-day!  good-day!"  It  could  not  pronounce  better,  but 
it  felt  friendly  toward  the  little  girl,  and  asked  where  she  was 
going  all  alone  in  the  wide  world.  The  word  "alone'' 
Gerda  understood  very  well,  and  felt  how  much  it  ex- 
pressed; and  she  told  the  Crow  the  story  of  her  whole  life 
and  fortunes,  and  asked  if  it  had  not  seen  Kay. 

And  the  Crow  nodded  very  gravely,  and  said: 

"That  may  be!   that  may  be!" 

"What?  do  you  think  so?"  cried  the  little  girl,  and  nearly 
pressed  the  Crow  to  death,  she  kissed  it  so. 

"Gently,  gently!"  said  the  Crow.  "I  think  I  know.  I 
believe  it  may  be  little  Kay;  but  he  has  certainly  forgotten 
you,  with  the  Princess." 

"Does  he  live  with  a  Princess?"  asked  Gerda. 

"Yes;  listen,"  said  the  Crow.  "But  it's  so  difficult  for 
me  to  speak  your  language.  If  you  know  the  crows'  lan- 
guage, I  can  tell  it  much  better." 

"No,  I  never  learned  it,"  said  Gerda;  "but  my  grand- 
mother understood  it,  and  could  speak  the  language,  too. 
I  only  wish  I  had  learned  it." 

"That  doesn't  matter,"  said  the  Crow.  "But  it  will  go 
badly." 

And  then  the  Crow  told  what  it  knew. 

"In  the  country  in  which  we  now  are  lives  a  Princess  who 
is  quite  wonderfully  clever,  but  then  she  has  read  all  the 
newspapers  in  the  world,  and  has  forgotten  them  again,  she 
is  so  clever.  Lately  she  was  sitting  on  the  throne — and 
that's  not  so  pleasant  as  is  generally  supposed — and  she  be- 
gan to  sing  a  song,  and  it  was  just  this:  'Why  should  I 
not  marry  yet?'  You  see,  there  was  something  in  that," 
said  the  Crow.     "And  so  she  wanted  to  marry,  but  she 


304  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

wished  for  a  husband  who  could  answer  when  he  was 
spoken  to,  not  one  who  only  stood  and  looked  handsome, 
for  that  was  wearisome.  And  so  she  had  all  her  maids  of 
honor  summoned,  and  when  they  heard  her  intention  they 
were  very  glad.  'I  like  that,'  said  they;  'I  thought  the  very 
same  thing  the  other  day.'  You  may  be  sure  that  every 
word  I  am  telling  you  is  true,"  added  the  Crow.  "I  have  a 
tame  sweetheart  who  goes  about  freely  in  the  castle,  and  she 
told  me  everything." 

Of  course  the  sweetheart  was  a  crow,  for  one  crow  always 
finds  out  another,  and  birds  of  a  feather  flock  together. 

"Newspapers  were  published  directly,  with  a  border  of 
hearts  and  the  Princess'  initials.  One  could  read  in  them 
that  every  young  man  who  was  good-looking  might  come 
to  the  castle  and  speak  with  the  Princess,  and  him  who 
spoke  so  that  one  could  hear  he  was  at  home  there,  and  who 
spoke  best,  the  Princess  would  choose  for  her  husband. 
Yes,  yes,"  said  the  Crow,  ''you  may  believe  me.  It's  as  true 
as  I  sit  here.  Young  men  came  flockine:  in;  there  was  a 
great  crowding  and  much  running  to  and  fro,  but  no  one 
succeeded  the  first  or  second  day.  They  could  all  speak  well 
when  they  were  out  in  the  streets,  but  when  they  entered 
at  the  palace  gates,  and  saw  the  guards  standing  in  their 
silver  lace,  and  went  up  the  staircase,  and  saw  the  lackeys 
in  their  golden  liveries,  and  the  great  lighted  halls,  they 
became  confused.  And  when  they  stood  before  the  throne 
itself,  on  which  the  Princess  sat,  they  could  do  nothing  but 
repeat  the  last  word  she  had  spoken,  and  she  did  not  care 
to  hear  her  own  words  again.  It  was  just  as  if  the  people 
in  there  had  taken  some  narcotic  and  fallen  asleep,  till  they 
got  into  the  street  again,  for  not  till  then  were  they  able  to 
speak.  There  stood  a  whole  row  of  them,  from  the  town 
gate  to  the  palace  gate.  I  went  out  myself  to  see  it,"  said 
the  Crow.  "They  were  hungry  and  thirsty,  but  in  the  palace 
they  did  not  receive  so  much  as  a  glass  of  lukewarm  water. 
A  few  of  the  vv'isest  had  brought  bread  and  butter  with  them, 
but  they  would  not  share  with  their  neighbors,  for  they 
thought,  'Let  him  look  hungry,  and  the  Princess  won't  have 
him.' " 

"But  Kay,  little  Kay?"  asked  Gerda.  "When  did  he 
come?    Was  he  among  the  crowd?" 

"Wait!  wait!   We're  just  coming  to  him.     It  was  on  the 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  205 

third  day  that  there  came  a  Uttle  personage,  without  horse 
or  carriage,  walking  quite  merrily  up  to  the  castle ;  his  eyes 
sparkled  like  yours;  he  had  fine  long  hair,  but  his  clothes 
were  shabby." 

"That  was  Kay!"  cried  Gerda,  rejoicing.  "Oh,  then  1 
have  found  him !"  And  she  clapped  her  hands. 

"He  had  a  little  knapsack  on  his  back,"  observed  the 
Crow. 

"No,  that  must  certainly  have  been  his  sledge,"  said 
•Gerda,  "for  he  went  away  with  a  sledge." 

"That  may  well  be,''  said  the  Crow,  "for  I  did  not  look  to 
it  very  closely.  But  this  much  I  know  from,  my  tame  sweet- 
heart, that  when  he  passed  under  the  palace  gate  and  saw 
the  Life  Guards  in  silver,  and  mounted  the  staircase  and 
saw  the  lackeys  in  gold,  he  was  not  in  the  least  embarrassed. 
He  nodded  and  said  to  them,  Tt  must  be  tedious  work 
standing  on  the  stairs — I'd  rather  go  in.'  The  halls  shone 
full  of  light;  privy  councilors  and  Excellencies  walked 
about  with  bare  feet,  and  carried  golden  vessels;  anyone 
might  have  become  solemn;  and  his  boots  creaked  most 
noisily,  but  he  was  not  embarrassed," 

"That  is  certainly  Kay!"  cried  Gerda.  "He  had  new 
boots  on;    I've  heard  them  creak  in  grandmothers  room." 

"Yes,  certainly  they  creaked,"  resumed  the  Crow.  "And 
he  went  boldly  in  to  the  Princess  herself,  who  sat  on  a  pearl 
that  was  as  big  as  a  spinning-wheel,  and  all  the  maids  of 
honor  with  their  attendants,  and  all  the  cavaliers  with  their 
followers,  and  the  followers  of  their  followers,  who  them- 
selves kept  a  page  apiece,  were  standing  round;  and  the 
nearer  they  stood  to  the  door,  the  prouder  they  looked. 
The  followers'  followers'  pages,  who  always  went  in  slip- 
pers, could  hardly  be  looked  at,  so  proudly  did  they  stand 
in  the  doorway!" 

"That  must  be  terrible!"  faltered  little  Gerda.  "And  yet 
Kay  won  the  Princess?" 

"If  I  had  not  been  a  crow,  I  would  have  married  her  my- 
self, notwithstanding  that  I  am  engaged.  They  say  he 
spoke  as  well  as  I  can  when  I  speak  the  crows'  language;  I 
heard  that  from  my  tame  sweetheart.  He  was  merry  and 
agreeable ;  he  had  not  come  to  marry,  only  to  hear  the  wis- 
dom of  the  Princess;  and  he  approved  of  her,  and  she  of 
him." 

"Yes,  certainly  that  was  Kay !"  said  Gerda.  "He  was  so 
20 


306  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

clever;  he  could  do  mental  arithmetic  up  to  fractions.  Oh! 
won't  you  lead  me  to  the  castle,  too?" 

"That's  easily  said,"  replied  the  Crow.  "But  how  are  we 
to  manage  it?  I'll  talk  it  over  with  my  tame  sweetheart; 
she  can  probably  advise  us;  for  this  I  must  tell  you — a  little 
girl  like  yourself  will  never  get  leave  to  go  completely  in." 

"Yes,  I  shall  get  leave,"  said  Gerda.  "When  Kay  hears 
that  I'm  there  he'll  come  out  directly,  and  bring  me  in." 

"Wait  for  me  yonder  at  the  grating,"  said  Crow;  and 
it  wagged  its  head  and  flew  away. 

It  was  already  late  in  the  evening  when  the  Crow  came 
back. 

"Rax!  rax!"  it  said.  "I'm  to  greet  you  kindly  from  my 
sweetheart,  and  here's  a  little  loaf  for  you.  She  took  it  from 
the  kitchen.  There's  plenty  of  bread  there,  and  you  must 
be  hungr}^  You  can't  possibly  get  into  the  palace,  for  you 
are  barefooted,  and  the  guards  in  silver  and  the  lackeys  in 
gold  would  not  allow  it.  But  don't  cry;  you  shall  go  up. 
My  sweetheart  knows  a  little  back  staircase  that  leads  up 
to  the  bedroom,  and  she  knows  where  she  can  get  the  key." 

And  they  went  into  the  garden  into  the  great  avenue, 
where  one  leaf  was  falling  down  after  another;  and  when 
the  lights  were  extinguished  in  the  palace  one  after  the 
other,  the  Crow  led  Gerda  to  a  back  door,  which  stood  ajar. 

Oh,  how  Gerda's  heart  beat  with  fear  and  longing!  It 
was  just  as  if  she  had  been  going  to  do  something  wicked; 
and  yet  she  only  wanted  to  know  if  it  was  little  Kay.  Yes, 
it  must  be  he.  She  thought  so  deeply  of  his  clear  eyes  and 
his  long  hair;  she  could  fancy  she  saw  how  he  smiled  as 
he  had  smiled  at  home  when  they  sat  among  the  roses.  He 
would  certainly  be  glad  to  see  her;  to  hear  what  a  long  dis- 
tance she  had  come  for  his  sake;  to  know  how  sorry  the}' 
had  all  been  at  home  when  he  did  not  come  back.  Oh,  what 
a  fear  and  what  a  joy  that  was! 

Now  they  were  on  the  staircase.  A  little  lamp  was  burn- 
ing upon  a  cupboard,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  stood 
the  tame  Crow  turning  her  head  on  every  side  and  looking 
at  Gerda,  who  courtesied  as  her  grandmother  had  taught 
her  to  do. 

"My  betrothed  has  spoken  to  me  very  favorably  of  you, 
my  little  lady,"  said  the  tame  Crow.  "Your  history,  as  it 
may  be  called,  is  very  moving.    Will  you  take  the  lamp? 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES,  307 

then  I  will  precede  you.    We  will  go  the  straight  way,  and 
then  we  shall  meet  nobody." 

"I  feel  as  if  someone  were  coming  after  us,"  said  Gerda, 
as  something  rushed  by  her;  it  seemed  like  a  shadow  on 
the  wall;  horses  with  flying  manes  and  thin  legs,  hunters, 
and  ladies  and  gentlemen  on  horseback. 

"These  are  only  dreams,"  said  the  Crow;  "they  are  com- 
ing to  carry  the  high  masters'  thoughts  out  hunting.  That's 
all  the  better,  for  you  may  look  at  them  the  more  closely, 
in  bed.  But  I  hope,  when  you  are  taken  into  favor  and  get 
promotion,  you  will  show  a  grateful  heart." 

"Of  that  we  may  be  sure!"  observed  the  Crow  from  the 
wood. 

Now  they  came  into  the  first  hall;  it  was  hung  with  rose- 
colored  satin,  and  artificial  flowers  were  worked  on  the 
walls;  and  here  the  dream  already  came  flitting  by  them, 
but  they  moved  so  quickly  that  Gerda  could  not  see  the 
high-born  lords  and  ladies.  Each  hall  was  more  splendid 
than  the  last;  yes,  one  could  almost  become  bewildered! 
Now  they  were  in  the  bedchamber.  Here  the  ceiling  was 
like  a  great  palm  tree  with  leaves  of  glass,  of  costly  glass, 
and  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  two  beds  hung  on  a  thick 
stalk  of  gold,  and  each  of  them  looked  like  a  lily.  One  of 
them  was  white,  and  in  that  lay  the  Princess ;  the  other  was 
red,  and  in  that  Gerda  was  to  seek  little  Kay.  She  bent  one 
of  the  red  leaves  aside,  and  then  she  saw  a  little  brown  neck. 
Oh,  that  was  Kay!  She  called  out  his  name  quite  loud, 
and  held  the  lamp  toward  him.  The  dreams  rushed  into 
the  room  again  on  horseback — he  awoke,  turned  his  head, 
and — it  was  not  little  Kay! 

The  Prince  was  only  like  him  in  the  neck,  but  he  was 
young  and  good  looking,  and  the  Princess  looked  up,  blink- 
ing, from  the  white  lily,  and  asked  who  was  there.  Then 
little  Gerda  wept,  and  told  her  whole  history,  and  all  that 
the  Crows  had  done  for  her. 

"You  poor  child!"   said  the  Prince  and  Princess. 

And  they  praised  the  Crows,  and  said  that  they  were  not 
angry  with  them  at  all,  but  the  Crows  were  not  to  do  it 
again.    However,  they  should  be  rewarded. 

"Will  you  fly  out  free?"  asked  the  Princess,  "or  will  you 
have  fixed  positions  as  Court  Crows,  with  the  right  to  every- 
thing that  is  left  in  the  kitchen?" 


308  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

And  the  two  Crows  bowed,  and  begged  for  fixed  posi- 
tions, for  they  thought  of  their  old  age,  and  said,  "It  is  so 
good  to  have  some  provisions  for  one's  old  days,"  as  they 
called  them. 

And  the  Prince  got  up  out  of  his  bed,  and  let  Gerda  sleep 
in  it,  and  he  could  not  do  m.ore  than  that.  She  folded  her 
little  hands,  and  thought,  "How  good  men  and  animals 
are !"  and  then  she  shut  her  eyes  and  went  quietly  to  sleep. 
All  the  dreams  came  flying  in  again,  looking  like  angels, 
and  they  drew  a  little  sledge,  on  which  Kay  sat  nodding; 
but  all  this  was  only  a  dream,  and  therefore  it  was  gone 
again  as  soon  as  she  awoke. 

The  next  day  she  was  clothed  from  head  to  foot  in  velvet ; 
and  an  offer  was  made  to  her  that  she  should  stay  in  the 
castle  and  enjoy  pleasant  times,  but  she  only  begged  for  a 
little  carriage,  with  a  horse  to  draw  it,  and  a  pair  of  little 
boots;  then  she  would  drive  out  into  the  world  and  seek 
for  Kay. 

And  she  received  not  only  boots,  but  a  muff  likewise,  and 
was  neatly  dressed;  and  when  she  was  ready  to  depart,  a 
coach,  made  of  pure  gold,  stopped  before  the  door.  Upon  it 
shone  like  a  star  the  coat  of  arms  of  the  Prince  and  Princess; 
coachmen,  footmen,  and  outriders — for  there  were  outrid- 
ers, too — sat  on  horseback,  with  gold  crowns  on  their  heads. 
The  Prince  and  Princess  themselves  helped  her  into  the 
carriage,  and  wished  her  all  good  fortune.  The  forest  Crow, 
who  was  now  married,  accompanied  her  the  first  three 
miles;  he  sat  by  Gerda's  side,  for  he  could  not  bear  riding 
backward;  the  other  Crow  stood  in  the  doorway,  flapping 
her  wings ;  she  did  not  go  with  them,  for  she  suffered  from 
headache,  that  had  come  on  since  she  had  obtained  a  fixed 
position  and  was  allowed  to  eat  too  much.  The  coach  was 
lined  with  sugar  biscuits,  and  in  the  seat  there  were  ginger- 
bread, nuts,  and  fruit. 

"Farewell,  farewell!"  cried  the  Prince  and  Princess;  and 
little  Gerda  wept,  and  the  Crow  wept.  So  they  went  on  for 
the  first  three  miles,  and  then  the  Crow  said  good-bye,  and 
that  was  the  heaviest  parting  of  all.  The  Crow  flew  up  on  a 
tree,  and  beat  his  black  wings  as  long  as  he  could  see  the 
coach,  which  glittered  like  the  bright  sunshine. 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  309 

THE  FIFTH  STORY. 
THE  LITTLE  ROBBER  GIRL. 

They  drove  on  through  the  thick  forest,  but  the  coach 
gleamed  Hke  a  torch,  that  dazzled  the  robbers'  eyes,  and 
they  could  not  bear  it. 

"That  is  gold!  that  is  gold!"  cried  they,  and  rushed  for- 
ward, and  seized  the  horses,  killed  the  postilions,  the  coach- 
man, and  the  footmen,  and  then  pulled  little  Gerda  out  of 
the  carriage. 

"She  is  fat — she  is  pretty — she  is  fed  with  nut  kernels!" 
said  the  old  robber  woman,  who  had  a  very  long  matted 
beard,  and  shaggy  eyebrows  that  hung  down  over  her 
eves.  "She's  as  good  as  a  little  pet  lamb ;  how  I  shall  relish 
her!" 

And  she  drew  out  her  shining  knife,  that  gleamed  in  a 
horrible  way. 

"Oh!"  screamed  the  old  woman  at  the  same  moment;  for 
her  own  daughter,  who  hung  at  her  back,  bit  her  ear  in  a 
very  naughty  and  spiteful  manner  "You  ugly  brat!" 
screamed  the  old  woman;  and  she  had  not  time  to  kill 
Gerda. 

"She  shall  play  with  me !"  said  the  little  robber  girl.  "She 
shall  give  me  her  muff  and  her  pretty  dress,  and  sleep  with 
me  in  my  bed!'' 

And  then  the  girl  gave  another  bite,  so  that  the  woman 
jumped  high  up,  and  turned  right  round,  and  all  the  robbers 
laughed,  and  said: 

"Look  how  she  dances  with  her  calf." 

"I  want  to  go  into  the  carriage,"  said  the  little  robber 
girl. 

And  she  would  have  her  own  way,  for  she  was  spoiled  and 
very  obstinate;  and  she  and  Gerda  sat  in  the  carriage,  and 
drove  over  stock  and  stone  deep  into  the  forest.  The  little 
robber  girl  was  as  big  as  Gerda,  but  stronger  and  more 
broad  shouldered,  and  she  had  a  brown  skin;  her  eyes  were 
quite  black,  and  they  looked  almost  mournful.  She  clasped 
little  Gerda  round  the  waist,  and  said: 

"They  shall  not  kill  you  as  long  as  I  am  not  angry  with 
you.    I  suppose  you  are  a  Princess?" 


310  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"No,"  replied  Gerda.  And  she  told  all  that  had  happened 
to  her,  and  how  fond  she  was  of  little  Kay. 

The  robber  girl  looked  at  her  seriously,  nodded  slightly, 
and  said: 

"They  shall  not  kill  you,  even  if  I  do  get  angry  with  you, 
for  then  I  will  do  it  myself." 

And  then  she  dried  Gerda's  eyes,  and  put  her  two  hands 
into  the  beautiful  mufT  that  was  so  soft  and  w-arm. 

Now  the  coach  stopped,  and  they  were  in  the  courtyard  of 
a  robber  castle.  It  had  burst  from  the  top  to  the  ground; 
ravens  and  crows  flew  out  of  the  great  holes,  and  big  bull- 
dogs— each  of  which  looked  as  if  he  could  devour  a  man — 
jumped  high  up,  but  they  did  not  bark,  for  that  was  forbid- 
den. 

In  the  great  old,  smoky  hall,  a  bright  fire  burned  upon 
the  stone  floor;  the  smoke  passed  along  under  the  ceiling, 
and  had  to  seek  an  exit  for  itself.  A  great  cauldron  of  soup 
was  boiling,  and  hares  and  rabbits  were  roasting  on  the 
spit. 

"You  shall  sleep  to-night  with  me  and  all  my  little  ani- 
mals," said  the  robber  girl. 

They  got  something  to  eat  and  drink,  and  then  went  to  a 
corner,  where  straw  and  carpets  were  spread  out.  Above 
these  sat  on  laths  and  perches  more  than  a  hundred  pigeons, 
and  all  seemed  asleep,  but  they  turned  a  little  when  the  two 
little  girls  came. 

"All  these  belong  to  me,''  said  the  little  robber  girl;  and 
she  quickly  seized  one  of  the  nearest,  held  it  by  the  feet,  and 
shook  it  so  that  it  flapped  its  wings.  "Kiss  it!"  she  cried, 
and  beat  it  in  Gerda's  face.  "There  sit  the  wood  rascals," 
she  continued,  pointing  to  a  number  of  laths  that  had  been 
nailed  in  front  of  a  hole  in  the  wall.  "Those  are  wood  ras- 
cals, those  two;  they  fly  away  directly  if  one  does  not  keep 
them  well  locked  up.  And  here's  my  old  sweetheart  'Ba.'  " 
And  she  pulled  out  b}^  the  horn  a  Reindeer,  that  was  tied  up, 
and  had  a  polished  copper  ring  round  its  neck.  "We're 
obliged  to  keep  him  tight,  too,  or  he'd  run  aw^ay  from  us. 
Every  evening  I  tickle  his  neck  with  a  sharp  knife,  and  he's 
very  frightened  at  that." 

And  the  little  girl  drew  a  long  knife  from  a  cleft  in  the 
wall,  and  let  it  glide  over  the  Reindeer's  neck;   the  poor 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  311 

creature  kicked  out  its  legs,  and  the  little  robber  girl 
laughed,  and  drew  Gerda  into  bed  with  her. 

"Do  you  keep  the  knife  while  you're  asleep?"  asked 
Gerda,  and  looked  at  it  in  rather  a  frightened  way. 

"I  always  sleep  with  my  knife,"  replied  the  robber  girl. 
"One  does  not  know  what  may  happen.  But  now  tell  me 
again  what  you  told  me  just  now  about  little  Kay,  and  why 
you  came  out  into  the  wide  world," 

And  Gerda  told  it  again  from  the  beginning;  and  the 
Wood  Pigeons  cooed  above  them  in  their  cage,  and  the 
other  pigeons  slept.  The  little  robber  girl  put  her  arm 
round  Gerda's  neck,  held  her  knife  in  the  other  hand,  and 
slept  so  that  one  could  hear  her;  but  Gerda  could  not  close 
her  eyes  at  all — she  did  not  know  whether  she  was  to  live  or 
die. 

The  robbers  sat  round  the  fire,  sang  and  drank,  and  the 
old  robber  woman  tumbled  about.  It  was  quite  terrible  for 
a  little  girl  to  behold. 

Then  the  Wood  Pigeons  said:  "Coo!  coo!  we  have  seen 
little  Kay.  A  white  owl  was  carrying  his  sledge;  he  sat  in 
the  Snow  Queen's  carriage,  which  drove  close  by  the  forest 
as  we  lay  in  our  nests.  She  blew  upon  us  young  pigeons 
and  all  died  except  us  two.    Coo!   coo!" 

"What  are  you  saying  there?"  asked  Gerda.  "Whither 
was  the  Snow  Queen  traveling?  Do  you  know  anything 
about  it?" 

"She  was  probably  journeying  to  Lapland,  for  there  they 
have  always  ice  and  snow.  Ask  the  reindeer  that  is  tied  to 
the  cord." 

"There  is  ice  and  snow  yonder,  and  it  is  glorious  and  fine," 
said  the  Reindeer.  "There  one  may  run  about  free  in  great 
glittering  plains.  There  the  Snow  Queen  has  her  summer 
tent;  but  her  strong  castle  is  up  toward  the  North  Pole,  on 
the  island  that's  called  Spitzbergen." 

"O  Kay,  little  Kay!"  cried  Gerda. 

"You  must  lie  still,"  exclaimed  the  robber  girl,  "or  I  shall 
thrust  my  knife  into  your  body." 

In  the  morning  Gerda  told  her  all  that  the  Wood  Pigeons 
had  said,  and  the  robber  girl  looked  quite  serious,  and  nod- 
ded her  head  and  said,  "That's  all  the  same,  that's  all  the 
same !'' 


312  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"Do  you  know  where  Lapland  is?"  she  asked  the  Rein- 
deer. 

"Who  should  know  better  than  I?"  the  creature  replied, 
and  its  eyes  sparkled  in  its  head.  "I  was  born  and  bred 
there;   I  ran  about  there  in  the  snow  fields." 

"Listen!"  said  the  robber  girl  to  Gerda.  "You  see  all 
our  men  have  gone  away.  Only  mother  is  here  still,  and 
she'll  stay;  but  toward  noon  she  drinks  out  of  the  big  bot- 
tle, and  then  she  sleeps  for  a  little  while;  then  I'll  do  some- 
thing for  you." 

Then  she  sprang  out  of  bed,  and  clasped  her  mother 
round  the  neck  and  pulled  her  beard,  crying: 

"Good-morning,  my  own  old  nanny-goat."  And  her 
mother  filliped  her  nose  till  it  was  red  and  blue;  and  it  was 
all  done  for  pure  love. 

When  the  mother  had  drunk  out  of  her  bottle  and  had 
gone  to  sleep  upon  it,  the  robber  girl  went  to  the  Reindeer, 
and  said: 

"I  should  like  very  much  to  tickle  you  a  few  times  more 
with  the  knife,  for  you  are  very  funny  then ;  but  it's  all  the 
same.  I'll  loosen  your  cord  and  help  you  out,  so  that  you 
may  run  to  Lapland;  but  you  must  use  your  legs  well,  and 
carry  this  little  girl  to  the  palace  of  the  Snow  Queen,  where 
her  playfellow  is.  You've  heard  what  she  told  me,  for  she 
spoke  loud  enough,  and  you  were  listening." 

The  Reindeer  sprang  up  high  for  joy.  The  robber  girl 
lifted  little  Gerda  on  its  back,  and  had  the  forethought  to 
tie  her  fast,  and  even  to  give  her  own  little  cushion  as  a  sad- 
dle. 

"There  are  your  fur  boots  for  you,"  she  said,  "for  it's 
growing  cold;  but  I  shall  keep  the  muff,  for  that's  so  very 
pretty.  Still,  you  shall  not  be  cold,  for  all  that;  here's  my 
mother's  big  muffles — they'll  just  reach  up  to  your  elbows. 
Now  you  look  just  like  my  ugly  mother." 

And  Gerda  wept  for  joy. 

"I  can't  bear  to  see  you  whimper,"  said  the  little  robber 
girl.  "No,  you  just  ought  to  look  very  glad.  And  here  are 
two  loaves  and  a  ham  for  you ;  now  you  won't  be  hungry." 

These  were  tied  on  the  Reindeer's  back.  The  little  rob- 
ber girl  opened  the  door,  coaxed  in  all  the  big  dogs,  and 
then  cut  the  rope  with  her  sharp  knife,  and  said  to  the  Rein- 
deer: 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  313 

"Now  run,  but  take  good  care  of  the  little  girl." 

And  Gerda  stretched  out  her  hands  with  the  big  muffles 
toward  the  little  robber  girl,  and  said,  "Farewell." 

And  the  Reindeer  ran  over  stock  and  stone,  away 
through  the  great  forest,  over  marshes  and  steppes,  as  quick 
as  it  could  go.  The  wolves  howled  and  the  ravens  croaked. 
"Hiss!  hiss!"  it  went  in  the  air.  It  seemed  as  if  the  sky 
were  flashing  fire. 

"Those  are  my  old  Northern  Lights,"  said  the  Reindeer. 
"Look  how  they  glow!"  And  then  it  ran  on  faster  than 
ever,  day  and  night. 


THE  SIXTH  STORY. 
THE  LAPLAND  WOMAN  AND  THE  FINLAND  WOMAN. 

At  a  little  hut  they  stopped.  It  was  very  humble;  the 
roof  sloped  down  almost  to  the  ground,  and  the  door  was 
so  low  that  the  family  had  to  creep  on  their  stomachs  when 
they  wanted  to  go  in  or  out.  No  one  was  in  the  house  but 
an  old  Lapland  woman,  cooking  fish  by  the  light  of  a  train- 
oil  lamp;  and  the  Reindeer  told  Gerda's  whole  history,  but 
it  related  its  own  first,  for  this  seemed  to  the  Reindeer  the 
more  important  of  the  two.  Gerda  was  so  exhausted  by 
the  cold  that  she  could  not  speak. 

"Oh,  you  poor  things,"  said  the  Lapland  woman,  "you've 
a  long  way  to  run  yet !  You  must  go  more  than  a  hundred 
miles  into  Finmark,  for  the  Snow  Queen  is  there,  staying 
in  the  country,  and  burning  Bengal  Lights  every  evening. 
I'll  write  a  few  words  on  a  dried  cod,  for  I  have  no  paper, 
and  I'll  give  you  that  as  a  letter  to  the  Finland  woman;  she 
can  give  you  better  information  than  I." 

And  when  Gerda  had  been  warmed  and  refreshed  with 
food  and  drink,  the  Lapland  woman  wrote  a  few  words  on 
a  dried  codfish,  and  telling  Gerda  to  take  care  of  these,  tied 
her  again  on  the  Reindeer,  and  the  Reindeer  sprang  away. 
Flash!  flash!  it  went  high  in  the  air;  the  whole  night  long 
the  most  beautiful  blue  Northern  Lights  were  burning. 

And  then  they  got  to  Finm^ark,  and  knocked  at  the  chim- 
ney of  the  Finland  woman,  for  she  had  not  even  a  hut. 

There  was  such  a  heat  in  the  chimney  that  the  woman 


314  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

herself  went  about  almost  naked.  She  at  once  loosened 
little  Gerda's  dress  and  took  off  the  child's  muffles  and 
boots;  otherwise  it  would  have  been  too  hot  for  her  to  bear. 
Then  she  laid  a  piece  of  ice  on  the  Reindeer's  head,  and 
read  what  was  written  on  the  codfish;  she  read  it  three 
times,  and  when  she  knew  it  by  heart,  she  popped  the  fish 
into  the  soup-cauldron,  for  it  was  eatable,  and  she  never 
wasted  anything. 

Now  the  Reindeer  first  told  his  own  story,  and  then  little 
Gerda's;  and  the  Finland  woman  blinked  with  her  clever 
eyes,  but  said  nothing. 

"You  are  very  clever,"  said  the  Reindeer.  "I  know  you 
can  tie  all  the  winds  of  the  world  together  with  a  bit  of 
twine;  if  the  seaman  unties  one  knot,  he  has  a  good  wind; 
if  he  loosens  the  second,  it  blows  hard;  but  if  he  unties  the 
third  and  fourth,  there  comes  such  a  tempest  that  the  for- 
ests are  thrown  down.  Won't  you  give  the  little  girl  a 
draught,  so  that  she  may  get  twelve  men's  power,  and  over- 
come the  Snow  Queen?'' 

"Twelve  men's  power!"  repeated  the  Finland  woman. 
"Great  use  that  would  be!" 

And  she  went  to  a  bed  and  brought  out  a  great  rolled-up 
fur,  and  unrolled  it;  wonderful  characters  were  written 
upon  it,  and  the  Finland  woman  read  until  the  perspiration 
ran  down  over  her  forehead. 

But  the  Reindeer  again  begged  so  hard  for  little  Gerda, 
and  Gerda  looked  at  the  Finland  woman  with  such  be- 
seeching eyes,  full  of  tears,  that  she  began  to  blink  again 
with  her  own,  and  drew  the  Reindeer  into  a  corner,  and 
whispered  to  him,  while  she  laid  fresh  ice  upon  his  head. 

"Little  Kay  is  certainly  at  the  Snow  Queen's,  and  finds 
everything  there  to  his  taste  and  liking,  and  thinks  it  is  the 
best  place  in  the  world ;  but  that  is  because  he  has  a  splinter 
of  glass  in  his  eye,  and  a  little  fragment  in  his  heart:  but 
these  must  be  got  out,  or  he  will  never  be  a  human  being 
again,  and  the  Snow  Queen  will  keep  her  power  over  him." 

"But  cannot  you  give  something  to  little  Gerda,  so  as  to 
give  her  power  over  all  this?" 

"I  can  give  her  no  greater  power  than  she  possesses  al- 
ready; don't  you  see  how  great  that  is?  Don't  you  see  how 
men  and  animals  are  obliged  to  serve  her,  and  how  she  gets 
on  so  well  in  the  world,  with  her  naked  feet?    She  cannot 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  315 

receive  her  power  from  us;  it  consists  in  this,  that  she  is  a 
dear,  innocent  child.  If  she  herself  cannot  penetrate  to  the 
iSnow  Queen  and  get  the  glass  out  of  little  Kay,  we  can  be  of 
no  use !  Two  miles  from  here  the  Snow  Queen's  garden  be- 
gins; you  can  carry  the  little  girl  thither;  set  her  down  by 
the  great  bush  that  stands  with  its  red  berries  in  the  snow. 
Don't  stand  gossiping,  but  make  haste,  and  get  back  here!" 

And  then  the  Finland  woman  lifted  little  Gerda  on  the 
Reindeer,  which  ran  as  fast  as  it  could. 

"Oh,  I  haven't  my  boots!  I  haven't  my  muffles!"  cried 
Gerda. 

She  soon  noticed  that  in  the  cutting  cold;  but  the  Rein- 
deer dare  not  stop;  it  ran  till  it  came  to  the  bush  with  the 
red  berries;  there  it  set  Gerda  down,  and  kissed  her  on  the 
mouth,  and  great  big  tears  ran  down  the  creature's  cheeks; 
and  then  it  ran  back,  as  fast  as  it  could.  There  stood  poor 
Gerda  without  shoes,  without  gloves,  in  the  midst  of  the 
terrible  cold  Finmark. 

She  ran  forward  as  fast  as  possible;  then  came  a  whole 
regiment  of  snow  flakes;  but  they  did  not  fall  down  from 
the  sky,  for  that  was  quite  bright,  and  shone  with  the 
Northern  Light;  the  snow  flakes  ran  along  the  ground, 
and  the  nearer  they  came  the  larger  they  grew.  Gerda  still 
remembered  how  large  and  beautiful  the  snow  flakes  had 
appeared  when  she  had  looked  at  them  through  the  burn- 
ing-glass. But  here  they  were  certainly  far  longer  and 
much  more  terrible — they  were  alive.  They  were  advanced 
posts  of  the  Snow  Queen,  and  had  the  strangest  shapes.  A 
few  looked  like  ugly  great  porcupines;  others  like  knots 
formed  of  snakes,  which  stretched  forth  their  heads;  and 
others  like  little  fat  bears,  whose  hair  stood  up  on  end;  all 
were  brilliantly  white,  all  were  living  snow  flakes. 

Then  little  Gerda  said  her  prayer;  and  the  cold  was  so 
great  that  she  could  see  her  own  breath,  which  went  forth 
out  of  her  mouth  like  smoke.  The  breath  became  thicker 
and  thicker,  and  formicd  itself  into  little  angels,  who  grew 
and  grew  whenever  they  touched  the  earth;  and  all  had 
helmets  on  their  heads  and  shields  and  spears  in  their  hands; 
their  number  increased  more  and  more,  and  when  Gerda 
had  finished  her  prayer  a  whole  legion  stood  round  about 
her,  and  struck  with  their  spears  at  the  terrible  snow  flakes, 
so  that  these  were  shattered  into  a  thousand  pieces;   and 


316  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

little  Gerda  could  go  forward  afresh,  with  good  courage. 
The  angels  stroked  her  hands  and  feet,  and  then  she  felt 
less  how  cold  it  was,  and  hastened  on  to  see  the  Snow 
Queen's  palace. 

But  now  we  must  see  what  Kay  is  doing.  He  certainly 
was  not  thinking  of  little  Gerda,  and  least  of  all  that  she  was 
standing  in  front  of  the  palace. 


THE  SEVENTH  STORY.      - 

OF  THE  tSNOW  QUEEN'S  CASTLE,  AND  WHAT  HAPPENED 
THERE  AT  LAST. 

The  walls  of  the  palace  were  formed  of  the  drifting  snow, 
and  the  windows  and  doors  of  the  cutting  winds.  There 
were  more  than  a  hundred  halls,  all  blovv^n  together  by  the 
snow;  the  greatest  of  these  extended  for  several  miles;  the 
strong  Northern  Light  illumined  them  all,  and  how  great 
and  empty,  how  icily  cold  and  shining  they  all  were !  Never 
was  merriment  there,  not  even  a  little  bears  ball,  at  which 
the  storm  could  have  played  the  music,  while  the  bears 
walked  about  on  their  hind  legs  and  showed  off  their  pretty 
manners;  never  any  little  sport  of  mouth-slapping  or  bars- 
touch;  never  any  little  coffee  gossip  among  the  young  lady 
white  foxes.  Empty,  vast,  and  cold  were  the  halls  of  the 
Snow  Queen.  The  Northern  Lights  flamed  so  brightly 
that  one  could  count  them  where  they  stood  highest  and 
lowest.  In  the  midst  of  this  immense  empty  snow  hall  was 
a  frozen  lake,  which  had  burst  into  a  thousand  pieces;  but 
each  piece  was  like  the  rest,  so  that  it  was  a  perfect  work  of 
art;  and  in  the  middle  of  the  lake  sat  the  Snow  Queen, 
when  she  was  at  home,  and  then  she  said  that  she  sat  in  the 
Mirror  of  Reason,  and  that  this  was  the  only  one,  and  the 
best  in  the  world. 

Little  Kay  was  quite  blue  with  cold — indeed,  almost 
black!  but  he  did  not  notice  it,  for  she  had  kissed  the  cold 
shudderings  away  from  him,  and  his  heart  was  like  a  lump 
of  ice.  He  dragged  a  few  sharp,  flat  pieces  of  ice  to  and  fro, 
joining  them  together  in  all  kinds  of  ways,  for  he  v/anted 
to  achieve  something  with  them.  It  was  just  like  when  we 
have  little  tablets  of  wood,  and  lay  them  together  to  form 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  317 

figures — what  we  call  the  Chinese  game.  Kay  also  went 
and  laid  figures,  and,  indeed,  very  artistic  ones.  That  was 
the  icy  game  of  Reason,  In  his  eyes  these  figures  were  very 
remarkable  and  of  the  highest  importance;  that  was  be- 
cause of  the  fragment  of  glass  sticking  in  his  eye.  He  laid 
out  the  figures  so  that  they  formed  a  word — but  he  could 
never  manage  to  lay  down  the  word  as  he  wished  to  have  it 
— the  word  "Eternity."    And  the  Snow  Queen  had  said: 

"If  you  can  find  out  this  figure,  you  shall  be  your  own 
master,  and  I  will  give  you  the  whole  world  and  a  new  pair 
of  skates." 

But  he  could  not. 

"Now  I'll  hasten  away  to  the  warm  lands,"  said  the  Snow 
Queen.  "I  will  go  and  look  into  the  black  spots;"  these 
were  the  volcanoes,  Etna  and  Vesuvius,  as  they  are  called. 
"I  shall  make  them  a  little  white!  That's  necessary;  that 
will  do  the  grapes  and  lemons  good." 

And  the  Snow  Queen  flew  away,  and  Kay  sat  quite  alone 
in  the  great  icy  hall  that  was  miles  in  extent,  and  looked 
at  his  pieces  of  ice,  and  thought  so  deeply  that  cracks  were 
heard  inside  him;  one  would  have  thought  that  he  was 
frozen. 

Then  it  happened  that  little  Gerda  stepped  through  the 
great  gate  into  the  wide  hall.  Here  reigned  cutting  winds, 
but  she  prayed  a  prayer,  and  the  winds  lay  down  as  if  they 
would  have  gone  to  sleep;  and  she  stepped  into  the  great 
empty  cold  halls,  and  beheld  Kay;  she  knew  him,  and  flew 
to  him,  and  embraced  him,  and  held  him  fast,  and  called 
out:  ■  -  ■  H":; 

"Kay,  dear  little  Kay!  at  last  I  have  found  you!" 

But  he  sat  quite  still,  stiff  and  cold.  Then  little  Gerda 
wept  hot  tears,  that  fell  upon  his  breast;  they  penetrated 
into  his  heart,  they  thawed  the  lump  of  ice,  and  consumed 
the  little  piece  of  glass  in  it.  He  looked  at  her,  and  she 
sang: 

"Roses  bloom  and  roses  decay, 
But  we  the  Christ-child  shall  see  one  day." 

Then  Kay  burst  into  tears;  he  wept  so  that  the  splinter  of 
glass  came  out  of  his  eye.  Now  he  recognized  her,  and 
cried  rejoicingly: 


318  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"Gerda,  dear  Gerda!  where  have  you  been  all  this  time? 
And  where  have  I  been?"  And  he  looked  all  around  him. 
"How  cold  it  is  here!    How  large  and  void!" 

And  he  clung  to  Gerda,  and  she  laughed  and  wept  for 
joy.  It  was  so  glorious  that  even  the  pieces  of  ice  round 
about  danced  for  joy;  and  when  they  were  tired  and  lay 
down,  they  formed  themselves  just  into  the  letters  of  which 
the  Snow  Queen  had  said  that  if  he  found  them  out  he 
should  be  his  own  master,  and  she  would  give  him  the 
whole  world  and  a  new  pair  of  skates. 

And  Gerda  kissed  his  cheeks,  and  they  became  blooming; 
she  kissed  his  eyes,  and  they  shone  like  her  own;  she 
kissed  his  hands  and  feet,  and  he  then  became  well  and 
merry.  The  Snov/  Queen  might  now  come  home;  his  letter 
of  release  stood  written  in  shining  characters  of  ice. 

And  they  took  one  another  by  the  hand,  and  wandered 
forth  from  the  great  palace  of  ice.  They  spoke  of  the  grand- 
mother and  of  the  roses  on  the  roof;  and  where  they  went 
the  winds  rested  and  the  sun  burst  forth;  and  when  they 
came  to  the  bush  with  the  red  berries,  the  Reindeer  was 
standing  there  waiting;  it  had  brought  another  young  Rein- 
deer, which  gave  the  children  warm  milk,  and  kissed  them 
on  the  mouth.  Then  they  carried  Kay  and  Gerda.  first  to 
the  Finnish  woman,  where  they  warmed  themselves  thor- 
oughly in  the  hot  room,  and  received  instructions  for  their 
journey  home,  and  then  to  the  Lapland  woman,  who  had 
made  their  new  clothes  and  put  their  sledge  in  order. 

The  Reindeer  and  the  young  one  sprang  at  their  side,  and 
followed  them  as  far  as  the  boundary  of  the  country.  There 
the  first  green  sprouted  forth,  and  there  they  took  leave  of 
the  two  Reindeers  and  the  Lapland  woman.  "Farewell!" 
said  all.  And  the  first  little  birds  began  to  twitter,  the  for- 
est was  decked  with  green  buds,  and  out  of  it,  on  a  beautiful 
horse  (which  Gerda  knew,  for  it  w^as  the  same  that  had 
drawn  her  golden  coach),  a  young  girl  came  riding,  with  a 
shining  red  cap  on  her  head  and  a  pair  of  pistols  in  the 
holsters.  This  was  the  little  robber  girl,  who  had  grown 
tired  of  staying  at  home,  and  wished  to  go  first  to  the 
north,  and  if  that  did  not  suit  her,  to  some  other  region. 
She  knew  Gerda  at  once,  and  Gerda  knew  her,  too;  and 
it  was  a  right  merry  meeting. 

"You  are  a  fine  fellow  to  gad  about!"  she  said  to  little 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  319 

Kay,  "I  should  like  to  know  if  you  deserve  that  one  should 
run  to  the  end  of  the  world  after  you?" 

But  Gerda  patted  her  cheeks,  and  asked  after  the  Prince 
and  Princess. 

"They've  gone  to  foreign  countries,"  said  the  robber  girl. 

"But  the  Crow?"  said  Gerda. 

"The  Crow  is  dead,"  answered  the  other.  "The  tame  one 
has  become  a  widow,  and  goes  about  with  an  end  of  black 
worsted  thread  round  her  leg.  She  complains  most  lament- 
ably, but  it's  all  talk.  But  now  tell  me  how  you  have  fared, 
and  how  you  caught  him." 

And  Gerda  and  Kay  told  their  story. 

"Snipp-snapp-snurre-purre-basellurre!"  said  the  robber 
girl. 

And  she  took  them  both  by  the  hand,  and  promised  that  if 
she  ever  came  through  their  town,  she  would  come  up  and 
pay  them  a  visit.  And  then  she  rode  away  into  the  wide 
world.  But  Gerda  and  Kay  went  hand  in  hand,  and  as  they 
went  it  became  beautiful  spring,  with  green  and  with  flow- 
ers. The  church  bells  sounded,  and  they  recognized  the 
high  steeples  and  the  great  town;  it  was  the  one  in  which 
they  lived,  and  they  went  to  the  grandmother's  door,  and 
up  the  stairs,  and  into  the  room,  where  everything  remained 
in  its  usual  place.  The  big  clock  was  going  "Tick!  tack!" 
and  the  hands  were  turning;  but  as  they  went  through  the 
rooms  they  noticed  that  they  had  become  grown-up  people. 
The  roses  out  on  the  roof  gutter  were  blooming  in  at  the 
open  window,  and  there  stood  the  children's  chairs,  and 
Kay  and  Gerda  sat  each  upon  their  own,  and  held  each 
other  by  the  hand.  They  had  forgotten  the  cold,  empty 
splendor  at  the  Snow  Queen's  like  a  heavy  dream.  The 
grandmother  was  sitting  in  God's  bright  sunshine,  and 
read  aloud  out  of  the  Bible,  "Except  ye  become  as  little 
children,  ye  shall  in  no  wise  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
God." 

And  Kay  and  Gerda  looked  into  each  other's  eyes,  and 
all  at  once  they  understood  the  old  song: 

"Roses  bloom  and  roses  decay, 
But  we  the  Christ-child  shall  see  one  day." 


520  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

There  they  both  sat,  grown  up,  and  yet  children — chil- 
dren in  heart — and  it  was  summer;  warm,  dehghtful  sum- 
mer. 


THE  NIGHTINGALE. 

In  China,  you  must  know,  the  Emperor  is  a  Chinaman, 
and  all  whom  he  has  about  him  are  Chinamen,  too.  It  hap- 
pened a  good  many  years  ago,  but  that's  just  why  it's  worth 
while  to  hear  the  story,  before  it  is  forgotten.  The  Em- 
peror's palace  was  the  most  splendid  in  the  world;  it  was 
made  entirely  of  porcelain,  very  costly,  but  so  delicate  and 
brittle  that  one  had  to  take  care  how  one  touched  it.  In 
the  garden  were  to  be  seen  the  most  wonderful  flowers,  and 
to  the  costliest  of  them  silver  bells  were  tied,  which 
sounded,  so  that  nobody  should  pass  by  without  noticing 
the  flowers.  Yes,  everything  in  the  Emperor's  garden  was 
admirably  arranged.  And  it  extended  so  far  that  the  gar- 
dener himself  did  not  know  where  the  end  was.  If  a  man 
went  on  and  on,  he  came  into  a  glorious  forest  with  high 
trees  and  deep  lakes.  The  wood  extended  straight  down  to 
the  sea,  which  was  blue  and  deep;  great  ships  could  sail"; 
too,  beneath  the  branches  of  the  trees;  and  in  the  trees 
lived  a  Nightingale,  which  sang  so  splendidly  that  even  the 
poor  fisherman,  who  had  many  other  things  to  do,  stopped 
still  and  listened,  when  he  had  gone  out  at  night  to  throw 
out  his  nets,  and  heard  the  Nightingale. 

"How  beautiful  that  is!''  he  said;  but  he  was  obliged  to 
attend  to  his  property,  and  thus  forgot  the  bird.  But  when 
the  next  night  the  bird  sang  again,  and  the  fisherman  heard 
it,  he  exclaimed  again,  "How  beautiful  that  is!" 

From  all  the  countries  of  the  world  travelers  came  to  the 
city  of  the  Emperor,  and  admired  it,  and  the  palace  and  the 
garden,  but  when  they  heard  the  Nightingale,  they  said, 
"That  is  the  best  of  all!" 

And  the  travelers  told  of  it  when  they  came  home;  and 
the  learned  men  wrote  many  books  about  the  town,  the  pal- 
ace, and  the  garden.  But  they  did  not  forget  the  Nightin- 
gale; that  was  placed  highest  of  all;  and  those  who  were 
poets  wrote  most  magnificent  poems  about  the  Nightingale 
in  the  wood  by  the  deep  lake. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  321 

The  books  went  through  all  the  world,  and  a  few  of  them 
once  came  to  the  Emperor,  He  sat  in  his  golden  chair,  and 
read,  and  read;  every  moment  he  nodded  his  head,  for  it 
pleased  him  to  peruse  the  masterly  descriptions  of  the  city, 
the  palace,  and  the  garden.  "But  the  Nightingale  is  the 
best  of  all,"  it  stood  written  there. 

"What's  that?"  exclaimed  the  Emperor.  "I  don't  know 
the  Nightingale  at  all!  Is  there  such  a  bird  in  my  empire, 
and  even  in  my  garden?  I've  never  heard  of  that.  To 
think  that  I  should  have  to  learn  such  a  thing  for  the  first 
time  from  books!" 

And  hereupon  he  called  his  cavalier.  This  cavalier  was 
so  grand  that  if  anyone  lower  in  rank  than  himself  dared  to 
speak  to  him,  or  to  ask  him  any  question,  he  answered 
nothing  but  "P!" — and  that  meant  nothing. 

"There  is  said  to  be  a  wonderful  bird  here  called  a  Night- 
ingale," said  the  Emperor.  "They  say  it  is  the  best  thing  in 
all  my  great  empire.  Why  have  I  never  heard  anything 
about^t?" 

"I  have  never  heard  him  named,"  replied  the  cavalier. 
"He  has  never  been  introduced  at  Court." 

"I  command  that  he  shall  appear  this  evening,  and  sing 
before  me,"  said  the  Emperor.  "All  the  world  knows  what 
I  possess,  and  I  do  not  know  it  myself!" 

"I  have  never  heard  him  mentioned,"  said  the  cavalier. 
"I  will  seek  for  him.    I  will  find  him." 

But  where  was  he  to  be  found?  The  cavalier  ran  up  and 
down  all  the  staircases,  through  halls  and  passages,  but  no 
one  among  all  those  whom  he  met  had  heard  talk  of  the 
Nightingale.  And  the  cavalier  ran  back  to  the  Emperor, 
and  said  that  it  must  be  a  fable  invented  by  the  writers  of 
books. 

"Your  Imperial  Majesty  cannot  believe  how  much  is 
written  that  is  fiction,  besides  something  that  they  call  the 
black  art."  ; 

"But  the  book  in  which  I  read  this,"  said  the  Emperor, 
"was  sent  to  me  by  the  high  and  mighty  Emperor  of  Japan, 
and  therefore  cannot  be  a  falsehood.  I  will  hear  the  Night- 
ingale! It  must  be  here  this  evening!  It  has  my  imperial 
favor;  and  if  it  does  not  come,  all  the  Court  shall  be  tram- 
pled upon  after  the  Court  has  supped !" 

"Tsing-pe!"   said  the  cavalier;    and  again  he  ran  up  and 

21 


322  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

down  all  the  staircases,  and  through  all  the  halls  and  corri- 
dors; and  half  the  Court  ran  with  him,  for  the  courtiers  did 
not  like  being  trampled  upon. 

Then  there  was  a  great  inquir)^  after  the  wonderful  Night- 
ingale, which  all  the  world  knew  excepting  the  people  at 
Court. 

At  last  they  met  with  a  poor  little  girl  in  the  kitchen,  who 
said: 

"The  Nightingale?  I  know  it  well;  yes,  it  can  sing  glori- 
ously. Every  evening  I  get  leave  to  carry  my  poor  sick 
mother  the  scraps  from  the  table.  She  lives  down  by  the 
strand;  and  when  I  get  back  and  am  tired,  and  rest  in  the 
wood,  then  I  hear  the  Nightingale  sing.  And  then  the 
water  comes  into  my  eyes,  and  it  is  just  as  if  my  mother 
kissed  me." 

"Little  kitchen  girl,"  said  the  cavalier,  "I  will  get  you  a 
place  in  the  kitchen,  with  permission  to  see  the  Emperor 
dine,  if  you  will  but  lead  us  to  the  Nightingale,  for  it  is  an- 
nouncecl  for  this  evening." 

So  they  all  went  out  into  the  wood  where  the  Nightingale 
was  accustomed  to  sing;  half  the  Court  went  forth.  When 
they  were  in  the  midst  of  their  journey  a  cow  began  to  low. 

"Oh!''  cried  the  Court  pages,  "now  we  have  it!  That 
shows  a  wonderful  power  in  so  small  a  creature!  I  have 
certainly  heard  it  before." 

"No,  those  are  cows  lowing,"  said  the  little  kitchen  girl. 
"We  are  a  long  way  from  the  place  yet." 

Now  the  frogs  began  to  croak  in  the  marsh. 

"Glorious!"  said  the  Chinese  Court  preacher.  "Now  I 
hear  it — it  sounds  just  like  little  church  bells." 

"No,  those  are  frogs,"  said  the  little  kitchen  maid.  "But 
now  I  think  we  shall  soon  hear  it." 

And  then  the  Nightingale  began  to  sing. 

"That  is  it!"  exclaimed  the  little  girl.  "Listen,  listen! 
and  yonder  it  sits." 

And  she  pointed  to  a  little  gray  bird  in  the  boughs. 

"Is  it  possible?"  cried  the  cavalier.  "I  should  never  have 
thought  it  looked  like  that!  How  simple  it  looks!  It  must 
certainly  have  lost  its  color  at  seeing  such  grand  people 
around." 

"Little  Nightingale!"  called  the  little  kitchen  maid,  quite 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  323 

loudly,  "our  gracious  Emperor  wishes  you  to  sing  before 
him." 

"With  the  greatest  pleasure!"  replied  the  Nightingale, 
and  began  to  sing  most  delightfully. 

"It  sounds  just  like  glass  bells!"  said  the  cavalier.  "And 
look  at  its  little  throat,  how  it's,  working!  It's  wonderful 
that  we  should  never  have  heard  it  before.  That  bird  will  be 
a  great  success  at  Court." 

"Shall  I  sing  once  more  before  the  Emperor?"  inquired 
the  Nightingale,  for  it  thought  the  Emperor  was  present. 

"My  excellent  little  Nightingale,"  said  the  cavalier,  "I 
have  great  pleasure  in  inviting  you  to  a  Court  festival  this 
evening,  when  you  shall  charm  his  Imperial  Majesty  with 
your  beautiful  singing." 

"My  song  sounds  best  in  the  green  wood,"  replied  the 
Nightingale ;  still  it  came  willingly  when  it  heard  what  the 
Emperor  wished. 

The  palace  was  festively  adorned.  The  walls  and  the 
flooring,  which  were  of  porcelain,  gleamed  in  the  rays  of 
thousands  of  golden  lamps.  The  most  glorious  flowers, 
which  could  ring  clearly,  had  been  placed  in  the  passages. 
There  was  a  running  to  and  fro,  and  a  thorough  draught, 
and  all  the  bells  rang  so  loudly  that  one  could  not  hear  one's 
self  speak. 

In  the  midst  of  the  great  hall,  where  the  Emperor  sat,  a 
golden  perch  had  been  placed,  on  which  the  Nightingale 
was  to  sit.  The  whole  Court  was  there,  and  the  little  cook- 
maid  had  got  leave  to  stand  behind  the  door,  as  she  had 
now  received  the  title  of  a  real  Court  cook.  All  were  in  full 
dress,  and  all  looked  at  the  little  gray  bird,  to  which  the 
Emperor  nodded. 

And  the  Nightingale  sang  so  gloriously  that  the  tears 
came  into  the  Emperor's  eyes,  and  the  tears  ran  down  over 
his  cheeks;  then  the  Nightingale  sang  still  more  sweetly, 
that  went  straight  to  the  heart.  The  Emperor  was  so  much 
pleased  that  he  said  the  Nightingale  should  have  his  golden 
slipper  to  wear  round  its  neck.  But  the  Nightingale  de- 
clined this  with  thanks,  saying  it  had  already  received  a 
sufficient  reward. 

"I  have  seen  tears  in  the  Emperor's  eyes — that  is  the  real 
treasure  to  me.    An  Emperor's  tears  have  a  peculiar  power, 


324  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

I  am  rewarded  enough!"  And  then  it  sang  again  with  a 
sweet,  glorious  voice. 

"That's  the  most  amiable  coquetry  I  ever  saw!"  said  the 
ladies  who  stood  round  about,  and  then  they  took  water  in 
their  mouths  to  gurgle  when  anyone  spoke  to  them.  They 
thought  they  should  be  nightingales,  too.  And  the  lackeys 
and  chambermaids  reported  that  they  were  satisfied  also; 
and  that  was  saying  a  good  deal,  for  they  are  the  most 
difficult  to  please.  In  short,  the  Nightingale  achieved  a 
real  success. 

It  was  now  to  remain  at  Court,  to  have  its  own  cage,  with 
liberty  to  go  out  twice  every  day  and  once  at  night.  Twelve 
servants  were  appointed  when  the  Nightingale  went  out, 
each  of  whom  had  a  silken  string  fastened  to  the  bird's  legs, 
which  they  held  very  tight.  There  was  really  no  pleasure  in 
an  excursion  of  that  kind. 

The  whole  city  spoke  of  the  wonderful  bird,  and  whenever 
two  people  met,  one  said  nothing  but  "Nightin,"  and  the 
other  said  "gale;"  and  then  the}^  both  sighed,  and  under- 
stood one  another.  Eleven  pedlars'  children  were  named 
after  the  bird,  but  not  one  of  them  could  sing  a  note. 

One  day  the  Emperor  received  a  large  parcel,  on  which 
was  written  "The  Nightingale." 

"There  we  have  a  new  book  about  this  celebrated  bird." 
said  the  Emperor. 

But  it  was  not  a  book,  but  a  little  work  of  art,  contained 
in  a  box,  an  artificial  nightingale,  which  was  to  sing  like  a 
natural  one,  and  was  brilliantly  ornamented  with  diamonds, 
sapphires,  and  rubies.  So  soon  as  the  artificial  bird  was 
wound  up,  he  could  sing  one  of  the  pieces  that  he  really 
sang,  and  then  his  tail  moved  up  and  down,  and  shone  with 
silver  and  gold.  Round  his  neck  hung  a  little  ribbon,  and 
on  that  was  written,  "The  Em.peror  of  China's  nightingale 
is  poor  compared  to  that  of  the  Emperor  of  Japan." 

"That  is  capital!"  said  they  all,  and  he  who  had  brought 
the  artificial  bird  immediately  received  the  title.  Imperial 
Head-Nightingale-Bringer. 

"Now  they  must  sing  together;  what  a  duet  that  will  be!" 
cried  the  courtiers. 

And  so  they  had  to  sing  together;  but  it  did  not  sound 
very  well,  for  the  real  Nightingale  sang  its  own  way,  and  the 
artificial  bird  sang  waltzes. 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES.  325 

"That's  not  his  fault,"  said  the  playmaster;  "he's  quite 
perfect,  and  very  much  in  my  style." 

Now  the  artificial  bird  was  to  sing  alone.  He  had  just  as 
much  success  as  the  real  one,  and  then  it  was  much  hand- 
somer to  look  at — it  shone  like  bracelets  and  breastpins. 

Three  and  thirty  times  over  did  it  sing  the  same  piece, 
and  yet  was  not  tired.  The  people  would  gladly  have  heard 
it  again,  but  the  Emperor  said  that  the  living  Nightingale 
ought  to  sing  something  now.  But  where  was  it?  No  one 
had  noticed  that  it  had  flown  away  out  of  the  open  window, 
back  to  the  green  wood. 

"But  what  has  become  of  that?"   asked  the  Emperor. 

And  all  the  courtiers  abused  the  Nightingale,  and  de- 
clared that  it  was  a  very  ungrateful  creature. 

"We  have  the  best  bird  after  all,"  said  they. 

And  so  the  artificial  bird  had  to  sing  again,  and  that  was 
the  thirty-fourth  time  that  they  listened  to  the  same  piece. 
For  all  that  they  did  not  know  it  quite  by  heart,  for  it  was 
so  very  difficult.  And  the  playmaster  praised  the  bird  par- 
ticularly; yes,  he  declared  that  it  was  better  than  a  nightin- 
gale, not  only  with  regard  to  its  plumage  and  the  many 
beautiful  diamonds,  but  inside  as  well. 

"For  you  see,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  and  above  all,  your 
Imperial  Majesty,  with  a  real  nightingale  one  can  never 
calculate  what  is  coming,  but  in  this  artificial  bird,  every- 
thing is  settled.  One  can  explain  it;  one  can  open  it  and 
make  people  understand  where  the  waltzes  come  from,  how 
they  go,  and  how  one  follows  up  another." 

"Those  are  quite  our  own  ideas,"  they  all  said. 

And  the  speaker  received  permission  to  show  the  bird  to 
the  people  on  the  next  Sunday.  The  people  were  to  hear  it 
sing,  too,  the  Emperor  commanded;  and  they  did  hear  it, 
and  were  as  much  pleased  as  if  they  had  all  got  tipsy  upon 
tea,  for  that's  quite  the  Chinese  fashion,  and  they  all  said, 
"Oh!"  and  held  up  their  forefingers  and  nodded.  But  the 
poor  fisherman,  who  had  heard  the  real  Nightingale,  said: 

"It  sounds  pretty  enough,  and  the  melodies  resemble  each 
other,  but  there's  something  wanting,  though  I  know  not 
what!" 

The  real  Nightingale  was  banished  from  the  country  and 
empire.  The  artificial  bird  had  its  place  on  a  silken  cushion 
close  to  the  Emperor's  bed;  all  the  presents  it  had  received, 


326  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

gold  and  precious  stones,  were  ranged  about  it;  in  title  it  had 
advanced  to  be  the  High  Imperial  After-Dinner  Singer,  and 
in  rank  to  Number  One  on  the  left  hand ;  for  the  Emperor 
considered  that  side  the  most  important  on  which  the  heart 
is  placed,  and  even  in  an  Emperor  the  heart  is  on  the  left 
side;  and  the  playmaster  wrote  a  work  of  five  and  twenty- 
volumes  about  the  artificial  bird;  it  was  very  learned  and 
very  long,  full  of  the  most  difficult  Chinese  words;  but  yet 
all  the  people  declared  that  they  had  read  it  and  understood 
it,  for  fear  of  being  considered  stupid,  and  having  their 
bodies  trampled  on. 

So  a  whole  year  went  by.  The  Emperor,  the  Court,  and 
all  the  other  Chinese  knew  every  little  twitter  in  the  arti- 
ficial bird's  song  by  heart.  But  just  for  that  reason  it 
pleased  them  best — they  could  sing  with  it  themselves,  and 
they  did  so.  The  street  boys  sang,  "Tsi-tsi-tsi-glug-glug!" 
and  the  Emperor  himself  sang  it,  too.  Yes,  that  was  cer- 
tainly famous. 

But  one  evening,  when  the  artificial  bird  was  singing  its 
•best,  and  the  Emperor  lay  in  bed  listening  to  it,  something 
inside  the  bird  said,  "Whizz!"  Something  cracked. 
"Whirr-r!"  All  the  wheels  ran  round,  and  then  the  music 
stopped. 

The  Emperor  immediately  sprang  out  of  bed,  and  caused 
his  body  physician  to  be  called;  but  what  could  he  do? 
Then  they  sent  for  a  watchmaker,  and  after  a  good  deal  of 
talking  and  investigation,  the  bird  was  put  into  something 
like  order,  but  the  watchmaker  said  that  the  bird  must  be 
carefully  treated,  for  the  barrels  were  worn,  and  it  would  be 
impossible  to  put  new  ones  in  in  such  a  manner  that  the  music 
would  go.  There  was  a  great  lamentation;  only  once  in  the 
year  was  it  permitted  to  let  the  bird  sing,  and  that  was  al- 
most too  much.  But  then  the  playmaster  made  a  little 
speech,  full  of  heavy  words,  and  said  this  was  just  as  good  as 
before — and  so  of  course  it  was  as  good  as  before. 

Now  five  years  had  gone  by,  and  a  real  grief  came  upon 
the  whole  nation.  The  Chinese  were  really  fond  of  their 
Emperor,  and  now  he  was  ill,  and  could  not,  it  was  said, 
live  much  longer.  Already  a  new  Emperor  had  been  chosen, 
and  the  people  stood  out  in  the  street  and  asked  the  cavalier 
how  the  Emperor  did. 

"P!"  said  he,  and  shook  his  head. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  327 

Cold  and  pale  lay  the  Emperor  in  his  great,  gorgeous  bed ; 

the  whole  court  thought  him  dead,  and  each  one  ran  to  pay 
homage  to  the  new  ruler.  The  chamberlains  ran  out  to  talk 
it  over,  and  the  ladies'  maids  had  a  great  coffee  party.  All 
about,  in  all  the  halls  and  passages,  cloth  had  been  laid  down 
so  that  no  footstep  could  be  heard,  and  therefore  it  was  quiet 
there,  quite  quiet.  But  the  Emperor  was  not  dead  yet;  stiff 
and  pale  he  lay  on  the  gorgeous  bed,  with  the  long  velvet 
curtains  and  the  heavy  gold  tassels ;  high  up,  a  window  stood 
open,  and  the  moon  shone  in  upon  the  Emperor  and  the 
artificial  bird. 

The  poor  Emperor  could  scarcely  breathe;  it  was  just  as 
if  something  lay  upon  his  chest;  he  opened  his  eyes,  and  then 
he  saw  that  it  was  Death  who  sat  upon  his  chest,  and  had 
put  on  his  golden  crown,  and  held  in  one  hand  the  Emper- 
or's sword,  in  the  other  his  beautiful  banner.  And  all 
around,  from  among  the  folds  of  the  splendid  velvet  curtains, 
strange  heads  peered  forth;  a  few  very  ugly,  the  rest  quite 
lovely  and  mild.  These  were  all  the  Emperor's  bad  and 
good  deeds,  that  stood  before  him  now  that  Death  sat  upon 
his  heart. 

"Do  you  remember  this?"  whispered  one  to  the  other. 
"Do  you  remember  that?"  and  then  they  told  him  so  much 
that  the  perspiration  ran  from  his  forehead. 

"I  did  not  know  that!"  said  the  Emperor.  "Music!  mu- 
sic! the  great  Chinese  drum!"  he  cried,  "so  that  I  need  not 
hear  all  they  say!" 

And  they  continued  speaking,  and  Death  nodded  like  a 
Chinaman  to  all  they  said. 

"Music!  music!"  cried  the  Emperor.  "You  little  precious 
golden  bird,  sing,  sing!  I  have  given  you  gold  and  costly 
presents;  I  have  even  hung  my  golden  slipper  around  your 
neck — sing  now,  sing!" 

But  the  bird  stood  still;  no  one  was  there  to  wind  him  up, 
and  he  could  not  sing  without  that;  but  Death  continued  to 
stare  at  the  Emperor  with  his  great,  hollow  eyes,  and  it  was 
quiet,  fearfully  quiet. 

Then  there  sounded  from  the  window,  suddenly,  the  most 
lovely  song.  It  was  the  little  live  Nightingale,  that  sat  out- 
side on  a  spray.  It  had  heard  of  the  Emperor's  sad  plight, 
and  had  come  to  sing  to  him  of  comfort  and  hope.  As  it 
sang  the  specters  grew  paler  and  paler;  the  blood  ran  quicker 


328  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

and  more  quickly  through  the  Emperor's  weak  Hmbs;  and 
even  Death  hstened,  and  said: 

"Go  on,  Httle  Nightingale,  go  on!" 

"But  will  you  give  me  that  splendid  golden  sword?  Will 
you  give  me  that  rich  banner?  Will  you  give  me  the  Em- 
peror's, crown?" 

And  Death  gave  up  each  of  these  treasures  for  a  song. 
And  the  Nightingale  sang  on  and  on;  and  it  sang  of  the 
quiet  churchyard  where  the  white  roses  grow,  where  the 
elder  blossoms  smell  sweet,  and  where  the  fresh  grass  is 
moistened  by  the  tears  of  survivors.  Then  Death  felt  a 
longing  to  see  his  garden,  and  floated  out  at  the  window  in 
the  form  of  a  cold  white  mist. 

"Thanks!  thanks!"  said  the  Emperor.  "You  heavenly  lit- 
tle bird;  I  know  you  well.  I  banished  you  from  my  country 
and  empire,  and  yet  you  have  charmed  away  the  evil  faces 
from  my  couch,  and  banished  Death  from  my  heart !  How 
can  I  reward  you?" 

"You  have  rewarded  me!"  replied  the  Nightingale.  "I 
have  drawn  tears  from  your  eyes,  when  I  sang  the  first  time 
— I  shall  never  forget  that.  Those  are  the  jewels  that  re- 
joice a  singer's  heart.  But  now  sleep,  and  grow  fresh  and 
strong  again.     I  will  sing  you  something." 

And  it  sang,  and  the  Emperor  fell  into  a  sweet  slumber. 
Ah!  how  mild  and  refreshing  that  sleep  was!  The  sun 
shone  upon  him  through  the  windows,  when  he  awoke  re- 
freshed and  restored;  not  one  of  his  servants  had  yet  re- 
turned, for  they  all  thought  he  was  dead;  only  the  Nightin- 
gale still  sat  beside  him  and  sang. 

"You  must  always  stay  with  me,"  said  the  Emperor. 
"You  shall  sing  as  you  please;  and  Fll  break  the  artificial 
bird  into  a  thousand  pieces." 

"Not  so,"  replied  the  Nightingale.  "It  did  well  as  long 
as  it  could;  keep  it  as  you  have  done  till  now.  I  cannot 
build  my  nest  in  the  palace  to  dwell  in  it,  but  let  me  come 
when  I  feel  the  wish;  then  I  will  sit  in  the  evening  on  the 
spray  yonder  by  the  window,  and  sing  you  something,  so 
that  you  may  be  glad  and  thoughtful  at  once.  I  will  sing  of 
those  who  are  happy  and  of  those  who  suffer.  I  will  sing  of 
good  and  of  evil  that  remains  hidden  round  about  you.  The 
little  singing  bird  flies  far  around,  to  the  poor  fisherman,  to 
the  peasant's  roof,  to  everyone  who  dwells  far  away  from 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  329 

you  and  from  your  Court.  I  love  your  heart  more  than 
your  crown,  and  yet  the  crown  has  an  air  of  sanctity  about 
it.  I  will  come  and  sing  to  you — but  one  thing  you  must 
promise  me." 

"Everything!"  said  the  Emperor;  and  he  stood  there  in 
his  imperial  robes,  which  he  had  put  on  himself,  and  pressed 
the  sword  which  was  heavy  with  gold  to  his  heart. 

"One  thing  I  beg  of  you;  tell  no  one  that  you  have  a  little 
bird  who  tells  you  everything.  Then  it  will  go  all  the  bet- 
ter." 

And  the  Nightingale  flew  away. 

The  servants  came  in  to  look  at  their  dead  Emperor,  and 
— yes,  there  he  stood,  and  the  Emperor  said  "Good-morn- 
ing!" 


THE  NEIGHBORING  FAMILIES. 

One  would  really  have  thought  that  something  important 
was  going  on  by  the  duck  pond ;  but  nothing  was  going  on. 
All  the  ducks  lying  quietly  on  the  water,  or  standing  on  their 
heads  in  it — for  they  could  do  that — swam  suddenly  to  the 
shore.  One  could  see  the  traces  of  their  feet  on  the  wet 
earth,  and  their  quacking  sounded  far  and  wide.  The  water, 
lately  clear  and  bright  as  a  mirror,  was  quite  in  a  commo- 
tion. Before,  every  tree,  every  neighboring  bush,  the  old 
farmhouse  with  the  holes  in  the  roof  and  the  swallow's  nest, 
and  especially  the  great  rose  bush  covered  with  flowers,  had 
been  mirrored  in  it.  This  rose  bush  covered  the  w^all  and 
hung  over  the  water,  in  which  everything  appeared  as  in  a 
picture,  only  that  everything  stood  on  its  head;  but  when  the 
water  was  set  in  motion,  everything  swam  away,  and  the 
picture  was  gone.  Two  feathers,  which  the  fluttering  ducks 
had  lost,  floated  to  and  fro,  and  all  at  once  they  took  a  start, 
as  if  the  wind  were  coming;  but  the  wind  did  not  come,  so 
they  had  to  be  still,  and  the  water  became  quiet  and  smooth 
again.  The  roses  mirrored  themselves  in  it  again;  they 
were  beautiful,  but  they  did  not  know  it,  for  no  one  had  told 
them.  The  sun  shone  among  the  delicate  leaves;  every- 
thing breathed  in  the  sweet  fragrance,  and  all  felt  as  we 
feel  when  we  are  filled  with  the  thought  of  our  greatest  hap- 
piness. 


330  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"How  beautiful  is  life!"  said  each  Rose,  "Only  one 
thing  I  wish,  that  I  were  able  to  kiss  the  sun,  because  it  is  so 
bright  and  so  warm.  The  roses,  too,  in  the  water  yonder, 
our  images,  I  should  like  to  kiss,  and  the  pretty  birds  in  the 
nests.  There  are  some  up  yonder,  too;  they  thrust  out  their 
heads  and  pipe  quite  feebly;  they  have  no  feathers  like  their 
father  and  mother.  They  are  good  neighbors,  below  and 
above.     How  beautiful  is  life!" 

The  young  ones  above  and  below;  those  below  are  cer- 
tainly only  shadows  in  the  water — mere  Sparrows;  their 
parents  were  Sparrows,  too;  they  had  taken  possession  of 
the  empty  swallow's  nest  of  last  year,  and  kept  house  in  it  as 
if  it  had  been  their  own. 

"Are  those  ducks'  children  swimming  yonder?"  asked  the 
young  Sparrows,  when  they  noticed  the  ducks'  feathers  upon 
the  water. 

"If  you  must  ask  questions,  ask  sensible  ones,"  replied 
their  mother.  "Don't  you  see  that  they  are  feathers?  living 
clothes,  stufif  like  I  wear  and  like  you  will  wear;  but  ours  is 
finer.  I  wish,  by  the  way,  we  had  those  up  here  in  our  own 
nest,  for  they  keep  one  warm.  I  wonder  what  the  ducks 
were  so  frightened  at.  Not  at  us,  certainly,  though  I  said 
'piep'  to  you  rather  loudly.  The  thick-headed  roses  ought 
to  know  it,  but  they  know  nothing;  they  only  look  at  one  an- 
other and  smell.     I'm  very  tired  of  those  neighbors." 

"Just  listen  to  those  darling  birds  up  there,"  said  the 
Roses.  "They  begin  to  want  to  sing,  but  are  not  able  yet. 
But  it  will  be  managed  in  time.  What  a  pleasure  that  must 
be!     It's  nice  to  have  such  merry  neighbors." 

Suddenly  two  horses  came  galloping  up  to  water.  A 
peasant  boy  rode  on  one,  and  he  had  taken  ofif  all  his  clothes, 
except  his  big,  broad  straw  hat.  The  boy  whistled  like  a 
bird,  and  rode  into  the  pond  where  it  was  deepest,  and  when 
he  came  past  the  rose  bush  he  plucked  a  rose,  and  put  it 
upon  his  hat.  And  now  he  thought  he  looked  very  fine, 
and  rode  on.  The  other  Roses  looked  after  their  sister,  and 
said  to  each  other:  "Whither  may  she  be  journeying?"  but 
they  did  not  know. 

"I  should  like  to  go  out  into  the  world,"  said  one;  "but  it's 
beautiful,  too,  here  at  home  among  the  green  leaves.  All 
day  the  sun  shines  warm  and  bright,  and  in  the  night-time 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES,  331 

the  sky  is  more  beautiful  still;  we  can  see  that  through  all 
the  little  holes  in  it." 

They  meant  the  stars,  but  they  knew  no  better. 

"We  make  it  lively  about  a  house,"  said  the  Mother  Spar- 
row; "and  'the  swallow's  nest  brings  luck,'  people  say,  so 
they're  glad  to  see  us.  But  the  neighbors!  Such  a  rose 
bush  climbing  up  the  wall  causes  damp.  It  will  most  likely 
be  taken  away;  and  then,  at  least,  corn  will  perhaps  grow 
here.  The  Roses  are  fit  for  nothing  but  to  be  looked  at,  or 
at  most  one  may  be  stuck  on  a  hat.  Every  year,  I  know 
from  my  mother,  they  fall  off.  The  farmer's  wife  preserves 
them,  and  puts  salt  among  them;  then  they  get  a  French 
name  that  I  neither  can  nor  will  pronounce,  and  are  put 
upon  the  fire  to  make  a  good  smell.  You  see,  that's  their 
life.  They're  only  for  the  eye  and  the  nose.  Now  you 
know  it." 

When  the  evening  came,  and  the  gnats  played  in  the 
warm  air  and  the  red  clouds,  the  Nightingale  came  and  sang 
to  the  Roses,  saying  that  the  beautiful  was  like  sunshine  to 
the  world,  and  that  the  beautiful  lived  forever.  But  the 
Roses  thought  the  Nightingale  was  singing  of  itself,  and  in- 
deed one  might  easily  have  thought  so;  they  never  imagined 
that  the  song  was  about  them.  But  they  rejoiced  greatly  in 
it,  and  wondered  whether  all  the  little  Sparrows  might  be- 
come Nightingales. 

'T  understood  the  song  of  that  bird  very  well,"  said  the 
young  Sparrows,  "only  one  word  was  not  clear.  What  is 
the  beautiful?" 

"That's  nothing  at  all,"  replied  the  Mother  Sparrow; 
that's  only  an  outside  affair.  Yonder,  at  the  nobleman's 
seat,  where  the  pigeons  have  their  own  house,  and  have 
corn  and  peas  strewn  before  them  every  day, — Tve  been 
there  myself  and  dined  with  them;  for  tell  me  what  com- 
pany you  keep  and  I'll  tell  you  who  you  are, — yonder  at  the 
nobleman's  seat  there  are  two  birds,  with  green  necks  and  a 
crest  upon  their  head;  they  can  spread  out  their  tails  like  a 
great  shell,  and  then  it  plays  with  various  colors,  so  that  the 
sight  makes  one's  eyes  ache.  These  birds  are  called  pea- 
cocks, and  that's  the  beautiful.  They  should  only  be 
plucked  a  little,  then  they  would  look  no  better  than  all  the 
rest  of  us.  I  should  have  plucked  them  myself  if  they  had 
not  been  so  large," 


S32  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"I'll  pluck  them,"  piped  the  little  Sparrow,  who  had  no 
feathers  yet. 

In  the  farmhouse  dwelt  two  young  married  people;  they 
loved  each  other  well,  were  industrious  and  active,  and 
everything  in  their  home  looked  very  pretty.  On  Sunday 
morning  the  young  wife  came  out,  plucked  a  handful  of  the 
most  beautiful  roses,  and  put  them  into  a  glass  of  water, 
which  she  put  upon  the  cupboard. 

"Now  I  see  that  it  is  Sunday,"  said  the  husband,  and  he 
kissed  his  little  Vvife. 

They  sat  down,  read  their  hymn  book,  and  held  each 
other  by  the  hand;  and  the  sun  shone  on  the  fresh  roses  and 
the  young  couple. 

"This  sight  is  really  too  wearisome,"  said  the  Mother 
Sparrow,  who  could  look  from  the  nest  into  the  room;  and 
she  flew  away. 

The  same  thing  happened  the  next  Sunday,  for  every  Sun- 
day fresh  roses  were  placed  in  the  glass;  but  the  rose  bush 
bloomed  as  beautiful  as  ever. 

The  young  Sparrows  had  feathers  now,  and  wanted  to  flly 
out  too,  but  the  mother  would  not  allow  it,  and  they  were 
obliged  to  stay  at  home.  She  flew  alone;  but,  however  it 
may  have  happened,  before  she  was  aware  of  it,  she  was  en- 
tangled in  a  noose  of  horse-hair,  which  some  boys  had  fas- 
tened to  the  branches.  The  horse-hair  wound  itself  fast 
round  her  legs,  as  fast  as  if  it  would  cut  the  leg  through. 
What  pain !  what  a  fright  she  was  in ! 

The  boys  came  running  up,  and  seized  the  bird;  and  in- 
deed, roughly  enough. 

"It's  only  a  Sparrow,"  said  they;  but  they  did  not  let  her 
go,  but  took  her  home  with  them.  And  whenever  she  cried, 
they  tapped  her  on  the  beak. 

In  the  farmhouse  stood  an  old  man,  who  understood  mak- 
ing soap  for  shaving  and  washing,  in  cakes  as  well  as  in 
balls.  He  was  a  merry,  wandering  old  man.  When  he  saw 
the  Sparrow,  which  the  boys  had  brought,  and  for  which 
they  said  they  did  not  care,  he  said: 

"Shall  we  make  it  very  beautiful?" 

The  Mother  Sparrow  felt  an  icy  shudder  pass  through 
her. 

Out  of  a  box,  in  which  were  the  most  brilliant  colors,  the 
old  man  took  a  quantity  of  shining  gold  leaf,  and  the  boys 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  333 

were  sent  for  some  white  of  eggs,  with  which  the  Sparrow 
was  completely  smeared;  the  gold  leaf  was  stuck  upon  that, 
and  there  was  the  Mother  Sparrow  gilded  all  over.  She  did 
not  think  of  the  adornment,  but  trembled  all  over.  And  the 
soap  man  tore  off  a  fragment  from  the  red  lining  of  his  old 
jacket,  cut  notches  in  it,  so  that  it  looked  like  a  cock's  comb, 
and  stuck  it  on  the  bird's  head. 

"Now  you  shall  see  the  gold-jacket  fly,"  said  the  old  man; 
and  he  released  the  Sparrow,  which  flew  away  in  deadly  fear, 
with  the  sunlight  shining  upon  her. 

How  it  glittered!  All  the  Sparrows,  and  even  a  crow,  a 
knowing  old  boy,  were  startled  at  the  sight;  but  still  they 
flew  after  her,  to  know  what  kind  of  strange  bird  this 
might  be. 

Driven  by  fear  and  horror,  she  flew  homeward;  she  was 
nearly  sinking  powerless  to  the  earth;  the  flock  of  pursuing 
birds  increased,  and  some  even  tried  to  peck  at  her. 

"Look  at  her!  look  at  her!"  they  all  cried. 

"Look  at  her!  look  at  her!"  cried  the  young  ones,  when 
the  Mother  Sparrow  approached  the  nest.  "That  must  be  a 
young  peacock.  He  glitters  with  all  colors.  It  quite  hurts 
one's  eyes,  as  Mother  told  us.     Piep!  that's  the  beautiful." 

And  now  they  pecked  at  the  bird  with  their  little  beaks,  so 
that  she  could  not  possibly  get  into  the  nest;  she  was  so 
much  exhausted  that  she  could  not  even  say  "Piep!"  much 
less  "I  am  your  mother!" 

The  other  birds  also  fell  upon  the  Sparrow,  and  plucked 
off  feather  after  feather,  until  she  fell  bleeding  into  the  rose 
bush. 

"You  poor  creature!"  said  all  the  Roses;  "be  quiet,  and 
we  will  hide  you.     Lean  your  head  against  us.'' 

The  Sparrow  spread  out  her  wings  once  more,  then  drew 
them  tight  to  her  body,  and  lay  dead  by  the  neighboring 
family,  the  beautiful  fresh  Roses. 

"Piep!"  sounded  from  the  nest.  "Where  can  our  mother 
be?  It's  quite  inexplicable.  It  cannot  be  a  trick  of  hers, 
and  mean  that  we're  to  shift  for  ourselves;  she  has  left  us 
the  house  as  an  inheritance,  but  to  which  of  us  shall  it  be- 
long when  we  have  families  of  our  own?" 

"Yes,  it  won't  do  for  you  to  stay  with  me  when  I  enlarge 
my  establishment  with  a  wife  and  children;"  observed  the 
smallest. 


334  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"I  shall  have  more  wives  and  children  than  you!"  cried 
the  second. 

"But  I  am  the  oldest!"  said  the  third. 

Now  they  all  became  excited.  They  struck  out  with  their 
wings,  hacked  with  their  beaks,  and  flump!  one  after  an- 
other was  thrust  out  of  the  nest.  There  they  lay  with  their 
anger,  holding  their  heads  on  one  side,  and  blinking  with 
the  eye  that  looked  upward.  That  was  their  way  to  look 
sulky. 

They  could  fly  a  little;  by  practice  they  improved,  and  at 
last  they  fixed  upon  a  sign  by  which  they  should  know  each 
other  when  they  met  later  in  the  world.  This  sign  was  to  be 
the  cry  of  "Piep!''  with  a  scratching  of  the  left  foot  three 
times  against  the  ground. 

The  Sparrow  that  had  remained  behind  in  the  nest  made 
itself  as  broad  as  it  possibly  could,  for  it  was  the  proprietor. 
But  the  proprietorship  did  not  last  long.  In  the  night  the 
red  fire  burst  through  the  window,  the  fl.ames  seized  upon 
the  roof,  the  dry  straw  blazed  brightly  up,  and  the  whole 
house  was  burned,  and  the  young  Sparrow  too;  but  the  two 
others,  who  wanted  to  marry,  managed  to  escape  with  their 
lives. 

When  the  sun  rose  again,  and  everything  looked  as  much 
refreshed  as  if  nature  had  had  a  quiet  sleep,  there  rem.ained 
of  the  farmhouse  nothing  but  a  few  charred  beams,  leaning 
against  the  chimney  that  was  now  its  own  master.  Thick 
smoke  still  rose  from  among  the  fragments,  but  without 
stood  the  rose  bush  quite  unharmed,  and  every  flower,  every 
twig  immersed  in  the  clear  water. 

"How  beautiful  those  roses  bloom  before  the  ruined 
house!"  cried  a  passer-by.  "I  cannot  imagine  a  more  agree- 
able picture.     I  must  have  that." 

And  the  traveler  took  out  of  his  portfolio  a  little  book  with 
white  leaves;  he  was  a  painter,  and  with  his  pencil  he  drew 
the  smoking  house,  the  charred  beams,  and  the  overhanging 
chimney,  which  bent  more  and  more;  quite  in  the  fore- 
ground appeared  the  blooming  rose  bush,  which  presented  a 
charming  sight,  and  indeed  for  its  sake  the  whole  picture 
had  been  made. 

Later  in  the  day,  the  two  Sparrows  that  had  been  born 
here  came  by. 

''Where  is  the  house?"  asked  they.    "Where  is  the  nest? 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  335 

Piep!  All  is  burned,  and  our  strong  brother  is  burned  too. 
That's  what  he  has  got  by  keeping  the  nest  to  himself.  The 
Roses  have  escaped  well  enough — there  they  stand  yet,  with 
their  red  cheeks.  They  certainly  don't  mourn  at  their 
neighbor's  misfortune.  I  won't  speak  to  them,  it's  so  ugly 
here,  that's  my  opinion."     And  they  flew  up  and  away. 

On  a  beautiful  sunny  autumn  day,  when  one  could  almost 
have  believed  it  was  the  middle  of  summer,  there  hopped 
about  in  the  clean,  dry  courtyard  of  the  nobleman's  seat,  in 
front  of  the  great  steps,  a  number  of  Pigeons,  black,  white, 
and  variegated,  all  shining  in  the  sunlight.  The  old  Mother 
Pigeons  said  to  their  young  ones: 

"Stand  in  groups,  stand  in  groups,  for  that  looks  much 
better." 

"What  are  those  little  gray  creatures,  that  run  about  be- 
hind us?"  asked  an  old  Pigeon,  with  red  and  green  in  her 
eyes.     "Little  gray  ones,  little  gray  ones!"  she  cried.  . 

"They  are  Sparrows,  good  creatures.  We  have  always 
had  the  reputation  of  being  kind,  so  we  will  allow  them  to 
pick  up  the  corn  with  us.  They  don't  interrupt  conversa- 
tion, and  they  make  such  very  pretty  courtesies.'' 

Yes  they  courtesied  three  times,  each  with  the  left  leg, 
and  said  "Piep."  By  that  they  recognized  each  other  as  the 
Sparrows  from  the  nest  by  the  burned  house. 

"Here's  very  good  eating,"  said  the  Sparrow. 

The  Pigeons  strutted  round  one  another,  bulged  out  their 
chests  mightily,  and  had  their  own  secret  views  and  opinions 
on  things  in  general. 

"Do  you  see  that  pouter  Pigeon?''  said  one  speaking  to 
the  others.  "Do  you  see  that  one  swallowing  the  peas? 
She  takes  too  many,  and  the  best,  moreover.  Curoo! 
curoo!  How  she  lifts  up  her  crest,  the  ugly,  spiteful  thing! 
Curoo!  curoo!" 

And  all  their  eyes  sparkled  with  spite. 

"Stand  in  groups!  stand  in  groups!  Little  gray  ones! 
little  gray  ones!     Curoo!  curoo!" 

So  their  beaks  went  on  and  on,  and  so  they  will  go  on 
when  a  thousand  years  are  gone. 

The  Sparrows  feasted  bravely.  They  listened  attentively, 
and  even  stood  in  the  ranks  of  the  Pigeons,  but  it  did  not 
suit  them  well.  They  were  satisfied,  and  so  they  quitted  the 
Pigeons,  exchanged  opinion  concerning  them,  slipped  un- 


336  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

der  the  garden  railings,  and  when  they  found  the  door  of 
the  garden  open,  one  of  them,  who  was  over-fed,  and  conse- 
quently valorous,  hopped  on  the  threshold. 

"Piep!"  said  he,  "I  may  venture  that." 

"Piep!"  said  the  other,  "so  can  I,  and  something  more 
too." 

And  he  hopped  right  into  the  room.  No  one  was  pres- 
ent; the  third  Sparrow  saw  that,  and  hopped  still  far- 
ther into  the  room,  and  said,  "Everything  or  nothing!  By 
the  way,  this  is  a  funny  man's  nest;  and  what  have  they  put 
up  there?     What's  that?" 

Just  in  front  of  the  Sparrows  the  roses  were  blooming; 
they  were  mirrored  in  the  water,  and  the  charred  beams 
leaned  against  the  toppling  chimney. 

"Why,  what  is  that?  How  came  this  in  the  room  of  a 
nobleman's  seat?" 

And  then  these  Sparrows  wanted  to  fly  over  the  chimney 
and  roses,  but  flew  against  a  flat  wall.  It  was  all  a  picture, 
a  great  beautiful  picture,  that  the  painter  had  completed 
from  a  sketch. 

"Piep!"  said  the  Sparrow,"it's  nothing,  it  only  looks  like 
something.  Piep!  that's  the  beautiful.  Can  you  under- 
stand it?     I  can't." 

And  they  flew  away,  for  some  people  came  into  the  room. 

Days  and  years  went  by.  The  Pigeons  had  often  cooed, 
not  to  say  growled,  the  spiteful  things;  the  Sparrows  had 
suffered  cold  in  winter,  and  lived  riotously  in  summer ;  they 
were  all  betrothed  or  married,  or  whatever  you  like  to  call  it. 
They  had  little  ones,  and  of  course  each  thought  his  own  the 
handsomest  and  the  cleverest;  one  flew  this  way,  another  that, 
and  when  they  met  they  knew  each  other  by  their  "Piep!" 
and  the  three  courtesies  with  the  left  leg.  The  eldest  had 
remained  a  maiden  Sparrow,  with  no  nest  and  no  young 
ones.  Her  great  idea  was  to  see  a  town,  and  therefore  she 
flew  to  Copenhagen. 

There  was  to  be  seen  a  great  house  painted  with  many 
colors,  close  by  the  castle  and  by  the  canal,  in  which  latter 
swam  many  ships  laden  with  apples  and  pottery.  The 
windows  were  broader  below  than  at  the  top,  and  when  the 
Sparrows  looked  through,  every  room  appeared  to  them  li'ke 
a  tulip  with  the  most  beautiful  colors  and  shades.  But 
in  the  middle  of  the  tulip  were  white  people,  made  of  mar- 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  337 

ble;  a  few  certainly  were  made  of  plaster,  but  in  the  eyes  of 
a  sparrow  that's  all  the  same.  Upon  the  roof  stood  a  metal 
carriage,  with  metal  horses  harnessed  to  it,  and  the  God- 
dess of  Victory,  also  of  bronze,  driving.  It  was  Thorwald- 
sen's  Museum. 

"How  it  shines!  how  it  shines!"  said  the  little  maiden 
Sparrow.  "I  suppose  that's  "what  they  call  the  beautiful. 
Piep!     But  this  is  greater  than  the  peacock!" 

It  still  remembered  what,  in  its  days  of  childhood,  the 
Mother  Sparrow  had  declared  to  be  the  greatest  among  the 
beautiful.  The  Sparrow  flew  down  into  the  courtyard. 
There  everything  was  very  splendid;  upon  the  walls  palms 
and  branches  were  painted;  in  the  midst  of  the  court  stood  a 
great  blooming  rose  tree,  spreading  out  its  fresh  branches, 
covered  with  many  roses,  over  a  grave.  Thither  the  maiden 
Sparrow  flew,  for  there  she  saw  many  of  her  own  kind. 
"Piep!"  and  three  courtesies  with  the  left  leg — that  saluta- 
tion it  had  often  made  throughout  the  summer,  and  nobody 
had  replied,  for  friends  who  are  once  parted  don't  meet  every 
day;  and  now  this  form  of  greeting  had  become  quite  a 
habit  with  it.  But  to-day  two  old  Sparrows  and  a  young 
one  replied  "Piep!"  and  courtesied  three  times,  each  with 
the  left  leg. 

"Ah!  good-day!  good-day!"  They  were  two  old  ones 
from  the  nest,  and  a  little  one  belonging  to  the  family.  "Do 
we  meet  here  again?  It's  a  grand  place,  but  there's  not 
much  to  eat.     This  is  the  beautiful!     Piep!" 

And  many  people  came  out  of  the  side  chambers,  where 
the  glorious  marble  statues  stood,  and  approached  the  grave 
where  slept  the  great  master  who  had  formed  these  marble 
images.  All  stood  with  radiant  faces  by  Thorwaldsen's 
grave,  and  some  gathered  up  the  fallen  rose  leaves  and  kept 
them.  They  had  come  from  afar;  one  from  mighty  Eng- 
land, others  from  Germany  and  France.  The  most  beauti- 
ful among  the  ladies  plucked  one  of  the  roses  and  hid  it  in 
her  bosom.  Then  the  Sparrows  thought  that  the  roses  ruled 
here,  and  that  the  whole  house  had  been  built  for  their  sake ; 
that  appeared  to  them  to  be  too  much;  but  as  all  the  people 
showed  their  love  for  the  roses,  they  would  not  be  behind- 
hand. "Piep!''  they  said,  and  swept  the  ground  with  their 
tails,  and  glanced  with  one  eye  at  the  Roses;  and  they  had 
not  looked  long  at  the  flowers  before  they  recognized  them 

22 


338  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

as  old  neighbors.  And  so  the  Roses  really  were.  The 
painter,  who  had  sketched  the  rose  bush  by  the  ruined 
house,  had  afterward  received  permission  to  dig  it  up,  and 
had  given  it  to  the  architect,  for  nowhere  could  more  beau- 
tiful roses  be  found.  And  the  architect  had  planted  it  upon 
Thorwaldsen's  grave,  where  it  bloomed,  an  image  of  the 
beautiful,  and  gave  its  red,  fragrant  leaves  to  be  carried  into 
distant  lands  as  mementoes. 

"Have  you  found  a  situation  here  in  the  town?"  asked  the 
Sparrows. 

And  the  Roses  nodded;  they  recognized  their  brown 
neighbors,  and  were  glad  to  see  them  again.  "How  glori-> 
ous  it  is  to  live,  and  bloom,  to  see  old  faces  again,  and  cheer- 
ful faces  every  day!" 

"Piep!"  said  the  Sparrows.  "Yes,  these  are  truly  our  old 
neighbors;  we  remember  their  origin  by  the  pond.  Piep! 
how  they've  got  on!  Yes,  some  people  succeed  while  they're 
asleep.  Why,  yonder  is  a  withered  leaf — I  see  it  quite 
plainly!" 

And  they  picked  at  it  till  the  leaf  fell.  But  the  tree 
stood  there  greener  and  fresher  than  ever;  the  sweet  Roses 
bloomed  in  the  sunshine  by  Thorwaldsen's  grave,  and  were 
associated  with  his  immortal  name. 


THE  LITTLE  MATCH  GIRL. 

It  was  terribly  cold;  it  snov/ed  and  was  already  almost 
dark,  and  evening  came  on,  the  last  evening  of  the  year.  In 
the  cold  and  gloom  a  poor  little  girl,  bareheaded  and  bare- 
foot, was  walking  through  the  streets.  When  she  left  her 
own  house  she  certainly  had  had  slippers  on;  but  of  what 
use  were  they?  They  were  big  slippers,  and  her  mother 
had  used  them  till  then,  so  big  were  they.  The  little  maid 
lost  them  as  she  slipped  across  the  road,  where  two  carriages 
were  rattling  by  terribly  fast.  One  slipper  was  not  to  be 
found  again,  and  a  boy  had  seized  the  other,  and  run  away 
with  it.  He  thought  he  could  use  it  very  well  as  a  cradle, 
some  day  when  he  had  children  of  his  own.  So  now  the  lit- 
tle girl  went  with  her  little  naked  feet,  which  were  quite  red 
and  blue  with  the  cold.     In  an  old  apron  she  carried  a  num- 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  339 

ber  of  matches,  and  a  bundle  of  them  in  her  hand.     No 
one  had  bought  of  her  all  day,  and  no  one  had  given  her  a 

farthing. 

Shivering  with  cold  and  hunger,  she  crept  along,  a  pic- 
ture of  misery,  poor  little  girl!  The  snowflakes  covered 
her  long  fair  hair,  which  fell  in  pretty  curls  over  her  neck; 
but  she  did  not  think  of  that  now.  In  all  the  windows 
lights  were  shining,  and  there  was  a  glorious  smell  of  roast 
goose,  for  it  was  New  Year's  Eve.  Yes,  she  thought  of 
that! 

In  a  corner  formed  by  two  houses,  one  of  which  projected 
beyond  the  other,  she  sat  down,  cowering.  She  had  drawn 
up  her  little  feet,  but  she  was  still  colder,  and  she  did  not 
dare  to  go  home,  for  she  had  sold  no  matches,  and  did  not 
bring  a  farthing  of  money.  From  her  father  she  would  cer- 
tainly receive  a  beating,  and  besides  it  was  cold  at  home,  for 
they  had  nothing  over  them  but  a  roof  through  which  the 
wind  whistled,  though  the  largest  rents  had  been  stopped 
with  straw  and  rags. 

Her  little  hands  were  almost  benumbed  with  the  cold! 
Ah!  a  match  might  do  her  good,  if  she  could  only  draw  one 
from  the  bundle,  and  rub  it  against  the  wall,  and  warm  her 
hands  at  it.  She  drew  one  out.  R-r-atch !  how  it  sputtered 
and  burned!  It  was  a  warm,  bright  flame,  like  a  little  can- 
dle, when  she  held  her  hands  over  it;  it  was  a  wonderful  lit- 
tle light!  It  really  seemed  to  the  little  girl  as  if  she  sat  be- 
fore a  great  polished  stove,  with  bright  brass  feet  and  a 
brass  cover.  How  the  fire  burned!  how  comfortable  it  was! 
But  the  little  flame  went  out,  and  the  stove  vanished,  and 
she  had  only  the  remains  of  the  burned  match  in  her  hand. 

A  second  was  rubbed  against  the  wall.  It  burned  up, 
and  when  the  light  fell  upon  the  wall  it  became  transparent, 
like  a  thin  veil,  and  she  could  see  through  it  into  the  room. 
On  the  table  a  snow-white  cloth  was  spread;  upon  it  stood 
a  shining  dinner  service;  the  roast  goose  smoked  gloriously, 
stufifed  with  apples  and  dried  plums.  And  what  was  still 
more  splendid  to  behold,  the  goose  hopped  down  from  the 
dish,  and  waddled  along  the  floor,  with  a  knife  and  fork  in 
its  breast,  to  the  little  girl.  Then  the  match  went  out,  and 
only  the  thick,  damp,  cold  wall  was  before  her.  She  lighted 
another  match.  Then  she  was  sitting  under  a  beautiful 
Christmas  tree;  it  was  greater  and  more  ornamental  than  the 


340  ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES. 

one  she  had  seen  through  the  glass  door  at  the  rich  mer- 
chant's. Thousands  of  candles  burned  upon  the  green 
branches,  and  colored  pictures  like  those  in  the.  print  shops 
looked  down  upon  them.  The  little  girl  stretched  forth  her 
hand  toward  them;  then  the  match  went  out.  The  Christ- 
mas lights  mounted  higher.  She  saw  them  now  as  stars  in 
the  sky;  one  of  them  fell  down,  forming  a  long  line  of  fire. 

"Now  someone  is  dying,"  thought  the  little  girl,  for  her 
old  grandmother,  the  only  person  who  had  loved  her,  and 
who  was  now  dead,  had  told  her  when  a  star  fell  down  a 
soul  mounted  up  to  God.  She  rubbed  another  match 
against  the  wall;  it  became  bright  again,  and  in  the  bright- 
ness the  old  grandmother  stood  clear  and  shining,  mild  and 
lovely. 

"Grandmother!"  cried  the  child,  "oh!  take  me  with  you! 
I  know  you  will  go  when  the  match  is  burned  out.  You  will 
vanish  like  the  warm  fire,  the  warm  food,  and  the  great  glori- 
ous Christmas  tree!" 

And  she  hastily  rubbed  the  v/hole  bundle  of  matches,  for 
she  wished  to  hold  her  grandmother  fast.  And  the  matches 
burned  with  such  a  glow  that  it  became  brighter  than  in  the 
middle  of  the  day;  grandmother  had  never  been  so  large  or 
so  beautiful.  She  took  the  little  girl  in  her  arms,  and  both 
flew  with  brightness  and  joy  above  the  earth,  very,  very 
high,  and  up  there  was  neither  cold,  nor  hunger,  nor  care — 
they  were  with  God! 

But  in  the  corner,  leaning  against  the  wall,  sat  the  poor 
girl,  with  red  cheeks  and  smiling  mouth,  frozen  to  death  on 
the  last  evening  of  the  Old  Year.  The  New  Year's  sun  rose 
upon  a  little  corpse!  The  child  sat  there,  stiff  and  cold, 
with  the  matches  of  which  one  bundle  was  burned.  "She 
wanted  to  warm  herself,"  the  people  said.  No  one  imag- 
ined what  a  beautiful  thing  she  had  seen,  and  in  what  glory 
she  had  gone  in  with  her  grandmother  to  the  New  Year's 
Day. 


THE  ELF  HILL. 

A  few  great  Lizards  raced  nimbly  about  in  the  clefts  of  an 
old  tree;  they  could  understand  each  other  very  well,  for 
they  spoke  the  Lizards'  language. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  341 

"How  it  grumbles  and  growls  in  the  old  elf  hill!"  said  one 
Lizard.  "I've  not  been  able  to  close  my  eyes  for  two  nights, 
because  of  the  noise;  I  might  just  as  well  lie  and  have  the 
toothache,  for  then  I  can't  sleep  either." 

"There's  something  wrong  in  there,"  said  the  other  Liz- 
ard. "They  let  the  hill  stand  on  four  red  posts  till  the  cock 
crows  at  morn.  It  is  regularly  aired,  and  the  elf  girls  have 
learned  new  dances.     There's  something  going  on." 

"Yes,  I  have  spoken  with  an  Earthworm  of  my  acquaint- 
ance," said  the  third  Lizard.  "The  Earthworm  came  straight 
out  of  the  hill,  where  he  had  been  grubbing  in  the  ground 
night  and  day;  he  had  heard  much.  He  can't  see,  the  mis- 
erable creature,  but  he  understands  how  to  toss  about  and 
listen.  They  expect  some  friends  in  the  elf  hill — grand 
strangers;  but  who  they  are  the  Earthworm  would  not  tell, 
and  perhaps,  indeed,  he  did  not  know.  All  the  Will-o'-the- 
wisps  are  ordered  to  hold  a  torch  dance,  as  it  is  called;  and 
silver  and  gold,  of  which  there  is  enough  in  the  elf  hill,  is 
being  polished  and  put  out  in  the  moonshine." 

"Who  may  these  strangers  be?"  asked  all  the  Lizards. 
"What  can  be  going  on  there?  Hark,  how  it  hums!  Hark, 
how  it  murmurs !" 

At  the  same  moment  the  elf  hill  opened,  and  an  old  elf 
maid,*  hollow  behind,  came  tripping  out.  She  was  the  old 
Elf  King's  housekeeper.  She  .was  a  distant  relative  of  the 
royal  family,  and  wore  an  amber  heart  on  her  forehead.  Her 
legs  moved  so  rapidly — trip,  trip !  Gracious !  how  she  could 
trip !  straight  down  to  the  sea,  to  the  Night  Raven. 

"You  are  invited  to  the  elf  hill  for  this  evening,"  said  she; 
"but  will  you  do  me  a  great  service  and  undertake  the  invi- 
tations? You  must  do  something,  as  you  don't  keep  any 
house  yourself.  We  shall  have  some  very  distinguished 
friends,  magicians  who  have  something  to  say;  and  so  the 
old  Elf  King  wants  to  make  a  display." 

"Who's  to  be  invited?"  asked  the  Night  Raven. 

"To  the  great  ball  the  world  m.ay  come,  even  men,  if  they 
can  talk  in  their  sleep,  or  do  something  that  falls  in  our  line. 
But  at  the  first  feast  there's  to  be  a  strict  selection;  we  will 

*  A  prevailing  superstition  regarding  the  elf  maid,  or  elle  maid, 
is,  that  she  is  fair  to  look  at  in  front,  but  behind  she  is  hollow, 
like  a  mask. 


342  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

have  only  the  most  distinguished.  I  have  had  a  dispute  with 
the  Elf  King,  for  I  declared  that  we  would  not  even  admit 
ghosts.  The  merman  and  his  daughters  must  be  invited 
first.  They  may  not  be  very  well  pleased  to  come  on  dry 
land,  but  they  shall  have  a  wet  stone  to  sit  upon,  or  some- 
thing still  better,  and  then  I  think  they  won't  refuse  for  this 
time.  All  the  old  demons  of  the  first  class,  with  tails,  and 
the  wood  demon  and  his  gnomes,  we  must  have ;  and  then  I 
think  we  may  not  leave  out  the  grave  pig,  the  death  horse,* 
and  the  church  twig;  they  certainly  belong  to  the  clergy, 
and  are  not  reckoned  among  our  people.  But  that's  only 
their  office;  they  are  closely  related  to  us,  and  visit  us  dili- 
gently." 

"Croak!"  said  the  Night  Raven,  and  flew  away  to  give 
the  invitations. 

The  elf  girls  were  already  dancing  on  the  elf  hill,  and  they 
danced  with  shawls,  which  were  woven  of  mist  and  moon- 
shine; and  that  looks  very  pretty  for  those  who  like  that  sort 
of  thing.  In  the  mist,  below  the  elf  hill,  the  great  hall  was 
splendidly  decorated;  the  floor  had  been  washed  with  moon- 
shine, and  the  walls  rubbed  with  witches'  salve,  so  that  they 
glowed  like  tulips  in  the  light.  In  the  kitchen,  plenty  of 
frogs  were  turning  on  the  spit,  snail  skins  with  children's 
fingers  in  them,  and  salads  of  mushroom,  spawn,  damp 
mouse  muzzles,  and  hemlock;  beer  brewed  by  the  marsh 
witch,  gleaming  saltpeter  wine  from  grave  cellars,  every- 
thing very  grand;  and  rusty  nails  and  church  windowglass 
among  the  sweets. 

The  old  Elf  King  had  one  of  his  crowns  polished  with 
powdered  slate  pencil ;  it  was  slate  pencil  from  the  first  form, 
and  it's  very  difficult  for  the  Elf  King  to  get  first-form  slate 
pencil!  In  the  bedroom  curtains  were  hung  up,  and  fas- 
tened with  snail  slime.  Yes,  there  was  a  grumbling  and 
murmuring  there ! 

"Now  we  must  burn  horse  hair  and  pigs'  bristles  as  in- 

*  It  is  a  popular  superstition  in  Denmark,  that  under  every 
church  that  is  built,  a  living  horse  must  be  buried;  the  ghost  of 
this  horse  is  the  death  horse,  that  limps  every  night  on  three  legs 
to  the  house  where  someone  is  to  die.  Under  a  few  churches  a 
living  pig  was  buried,  and  the  ghost  of  this  was  called  the  grave 
pig. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  343 

cense  here,"  said  the  Elf  King,  "and  then  I  think  I  shall  have 
done  my  part." 

"Father,  dear,"  said  the  youngest  of  the  daughters,  "shall 
I  hear  now  who  the  distinguished  strangers  are?" 

"Well,"  said  he,  "I  suppose  I  must  tell  it  now.  Two  of 
my  daughters  must  hold  themselves  prepared  to  be  married; 
two  will  certainly  be  married.  The  old  gnome  from  Nor- 
way yonder,  he  who  lives  in  the  Dovre  mountains,  and  pos- 
sesses many  rock  castles  of  field  stones,  and  a  gold  mine 
which  is  better  than  one  thinks,  is  coming  with  his  two  sons, 
who  want  each  to  select  a  wife.  The  old  gnome  is  a  true 
old  honest  Norwegian  veteran,  merry  and  straightforward. 
I  know  him  from  old  days,  when  we  drank  brotherhood  with 
one  another.  He  was  down  here  to  fetch  his  wife;  now  she 
is  dead^ — she  vv'as  a  daughter  of  the  King  of  the  Chalk-rocks 
of  Moen.  He  took  his  wife  upon  chalk,  as  the  saying  is. 
Oh,  how  I  long  to  see  the  old  Norwegian  gnome !  The  lads, 
they  say,  are  rather  rude,  forward  lads ;  but  perhaps  they  are 
belied,  and  they'll  be  right  enough  when  they  grow  older. 
Let  me  see  that  you  can  teach  them  manners." 

"And  when  will  they  come?"  asked  the  daughters. 

"That  depends  on  wind  and  weather,"  said  the  Elf  King. 
"They  travel  economically;  they  come  when  there's  a 
chance  by  a  ship.  I  wanted  them  to  go  across  Sweden,  but 
the  old  one  would  not  incline  to  that  wish.  He  does  not  ad- 
vance with  the  times,  and  I  don't  like  that." 

Then  two  Will-o'-the-wisps  came  hopping  up,  one  quicker 
than  the  other,  and  so  one  of  them  arrived  first. 

"They're  coming!  they're  coming!"  they  cried. 

"Give  me  my  crown,  and  let  me  stand  in  the  moonshine," 
said  the  Elf  King. 

And  the  daughters  lifted  up  their  shawls  and  bowed  down 
to  the  earth. 

There  stood  the  old  gnome  of  Dovre,  with  the  crown  of 
hardened  ice  and  polished  fir  cones;  moreover,  he  wore  a 
bear-skin  and  great  warm  boots.  His  sons,  on  the  contrary, 
went  bare-necked,  and  with  trousers  without  braces,  for  they 
were  strong  men. 

"Is  that  an  acclivity?"  asked  the  youngest  of  the  lads; 
and  he  pointed  to  the  elf  hill.  "In  Norway  yonder  we  should 
call  it  a  hole." 


344  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"Boys!"  said  the  old  man,  "holes  go  down,  mounds  go  up. 
Have  you  no  eyes  in  your  heads?" 

The  only  thing  they  wondered  at  down  here,  they  said, 
was  that  they  could  understand  the  language  without  dif- 
ficulty. 

"Don't  give  yourselves  airs,"  said  the  old  man.  "One 
would  think  you  were  home  nurtured." 

And  then  they  went  into  the  elf  hill,  where  the  really  grand 
company  were  assembled,  and  that  in  such  haste  that  one 
might  almost  say  they  had  been  blow^n  together.  But 
for  each  it  was  nicely  and  prettily  arranged.  The  sea  folks 
sat  at  table  in  great  washing  tubs;  they  said  it  was  just  as  if 
they  were  at  home.  All  observed  the  ceremonies  of  the 
table  except  the  two  young  Northern  gnomes,  and  they  put 
their  legs  up  on  the  table;  but  they  thought  all  that  suited 
them  well. 

"Your  feet  off  the  table  cloth!"  cried  the  old  gnome. 

And  they  obeyed,  but  not  immediately.  The  ladies  they 
tickled  with  pine  cones  that  they  had  brought  with  them, 
and  then  took  off  their  boots  for  their  own  convenience,  and 
gave  them  to  the  ladies  to  hold.  But  the  father,  the  old 
Dovre  gnome,  was  quite  different  from  them;  he  told  such 
line  stories  of  the  proud  Norwegian  rocks,  and  of  the  water- 
falls, which  rushed  down  with  white  foam  and  with  a  noise 
like  thunder  and  the  sound  of  organs ;  he  told  of  the  salmon 
that  leaps  up  against  the  falling  waters  when  the  Reck  plays 
upon  the  golden  harp;  he  told  of  shining  winter  nights, 
when  the  sledge  bells  sound,  and  the  lads  run  with  burning 
torches  over  the  ice,  which  is  so  transparent  that  they  see 
the  fishes  start  beneath  their  feet.  Yes!  he  could  tell  It  so 
finely  that  one  saw  what  he  described;  it  was  just  as  if  the 
sawmills  were  going,  as  if  the  servants  and  maids  were  sing- 
ing songs  and  dancing  the  kalling  dance.  Hurrah!  all  at 
once  the  old  gnome  gave  the  old  elf  girl  a  kiss;  that  was  a 
kiss!  and  yet  they  were  nothing  to  each  other. 

Now  the  elf  maidens  had  to  dance  nimbly,  and  also  with 
stamping  steps,  and  that  suited  them  well;  then  came  the 
artistic  and  solo  dance.  Wonderful  how  they  could  use 
their  legs!  one  hardly  knew  where  they  began  and  where 
they  ended,  which  were  their  arms  and  which  their  legs — 
they  were  all  mingled  together  like  wood  shavings;  and 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  345 

■  then  they  whirled  round  till  the  death  horse  and  the  grave 
pig  turned  giddy,  and  were  obliged  to  leave  the  table. 

"Purr!"  exclaimed  the  old  gnome;  "that's  a  strange  fash- 
ion of  using  one's  legs.  But  what  can  they  do  more  than 
dance,  stretch  out  their  limbs,  and  make  a  whirlwind?" 

"You  shall  soon  know!"  said  the  Elf  King. 

And  then  he  called  forth  the  youngest  of  his  daughters. 
She  was  as  light  and  graceful  as  moonshine;  she  was  the 
most  delicate  of  all  the  sisters.  She  took  a  white  shaving 
in  her  mouth,  and  then  she  was  quite  gone;  that  was  her 
art. 

But  the  old  gnome  said  he  should  not  like  his  wife  to  pos- 
sess this  art,  and  he  did  not  think  that  his  boys  cared  for  it. 

The  other  could  walk  under  herself,  just  as  if  she  had  a 
shadow,  and  the  gnome  people  had  none.  The  third  daugh- 
ter was  of  quite  another  kind;  she  had  served  in  the  brew- 
house  of  the  moor  witch,  and  knew  how  to  stuff  elder-tree 
knots  with  glow-worms. 

"She  will  make  a  good  housewife,"  said  the  old  gnome; 
and  then  he  winked  a  health  with  his  eyes,  for  he  did  not 
want  to  drink  too  much. 

Now  came  the  fourth;  she  had  a  great  harp  to  play  upon, 
and  when  she  struck  the  first  chord  all  lifted  up  their  left  feet, 
for  gnomes  are  left-legged;  and  when  she  struck  the  second 
chord  all  were  compelled  to  do  as  she  wished. 

"That's  a  dangerous  woman!"  said  the  old  gnome;  but 
both  the  sons  went  out  of  the  hill,  for  they  had  had  enough 
of  it. 

"And  what  can  the  next  daughter  do?"  asked  the  old 
gnome. 

"I  have  learned  to  love  what  is  Norwegian,"  said  she, 
"and  I  will  never  marry  unless  I  can  go  to  Norway." 

But  the  youngest  sister  whispered  to  the  old  King, 
"That's  only  because  she  has  heard,  in  a  Norwegian  song, 
that  when  the  world  sinks  down,  the  cliffs  of  Norway  will 
remain  standing  like  monuments,  and  so  she  wants  to  get 
up  there,  because  she  is  afraid  of  sinking  down." 

"Ho!  ho!"  said  the  old  gnome,  "was  it  meant  in  that  way? 
But  what  can  the  seventh  and  last  do?" 

"The  sixth  comes  before  the  seventh!"  said  the  Elf  King, 
for  he  could  count.     But  the  sixth  would  not  come  out. 


346  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"I  can  only  tell  people  the  truth!"  said  she.  "Nobody 
cares  for  me,  and  I  have  enough  to  do  to  sew  my  shroud." 

Now  came  the  seventh  and  last,  and  what  could  she  do? 
Why,  she  could  tell  stories,  as  many  as  they  wished. 

"Here  are  all  my  fingers,"  said  the  old  gnome,  "tell  me  one 
for  each." 

And  she  took  him  by  the  wrist,  and  he  laughed  till  it 
clucked  within  him;  and  when  she  came  to  the  ring  finger, 
which  had  a  ring  round  its  waist,  just  as  if  it  knew  there  was 
to  be  a  wedding,  the  old  gnome  said: 

"Hold  fast  what  you  have;  the  hand  is  yours;  I'll  have 
you  for  my  own  wife." 

And  the  elf  girl  said  that  the  story  of  the  ring  finger  and 
of  little  Peter  Playman,  the  fifth,  were  still  wanting. 

"We'll  hear  those  in  winter,"  said  the  gnome,  "and  we'll 
hear  about  the  pine  tree,  and  about  the  birch,  and  about  the 
spirits'  gifts,  and  about  the  biting  frost.  You  shall  tell  your 
tales,  for  no  one  up  there  knows  how  to  do  that  well;  and 
then  we'll  sit  in  the  stone  chamber,  where  the  pine  logs  burn, 
and  drink  mead  out  of  the  horns  of  the  old  Norwegian 
Kings — Reck  has  given  me  a  couple;  and  when  we  sit  there, 
and  the  Nix  comes  on  a  visit,  she'll  sing  you  all  the  songs  of 
the  shepherds  in  the  mountains.  That  will  be  merry.  The 
salmon  will  spring  in  the  waterfall,  and  beat  against  the 
stone  walls,  but  he  shall  not  come  in." 

"Yes,  it's  good  living  in  Norway;  but  where  are  the 
lads?" 

Yes,  where  were  they?  They  were  running  about  in  the 
fields,  and  blowing  out  the  Will-o'-the-wisps,  which  had 
come  so  good-naturedly  for  the  torch  dance. 

"What  romping  about  is  this?"  said  the  old  gnome.  "I 
have  taken  a  mother  for  you,  and  now  you  may  take  one  of 
the  aunts." 

But  the  lads  said  they  would  rather  make  a  speech  and 
drink  brotherhood — they  did  not  care  to  marry;  so  they 
made  speeches,  and  drank  brotherhood,  and  tipped  up  their 
glasses  on  their  nails,  to  show  they  had  emptied  them. 
Afterward  they  took  their  coats  off  and  lay  down  on  the 
table  to  sleep,  for  they  made  no  ceremony.  But  the  old 
gnome  danced  about  the  room  with  his  young  bride,  and  he 
changed  boots  with  her,  for  that's  more  fashionable  than 
exchanging  rings. 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  347 

"Now  the  cock  crows,"  said  the  old  eh  girl,  who  attended 
to  the  housekeeping.  "Now  we  must  shut  the  shutters,  so 
that  the  sun  may  not  burn  us." 

And  the  hill  shut  itself  up.  But  outside,  the  Lizards  ran 
up  and  down  in  the  cleft-tree,  and  one  said  to  the  other: 

"Oh,  how  I  like  that  old  Norwegian  gnome!" 

"I  like  the  lads  better,''  said  the  ^^rthworm.  But  he 
could  not  see,  the  miserable  creature. 


THE  BUCKWHEAT. 

Often,  after  a  thunderstorm,  when  one  passes  a  field  in 
which  buckwheat  is  growing,  it  appears  quite  blackened  and 
singed.  It  is  just  as  if  a  flame  of  fire  had  passed  across  it; 
and  then  the  countryman  says,  "It  got  that  from  lightning." 
But  whence  has  it  received  that?  I  will  tell  you  what  the 
Sparrow  told  me  about  it,  and  the  Sparrow  heard  it  from 
an  old  Willow  Tree  which  stood  by  a  Buckwheat  field,  and 
still  stands  there.  It  is  quite  a  great  venerable  Willow 
Tree,  but  crippled  and  old;  it  is  burst  in  the  middle,  and 
grass  and  brambles  grow  out  of  the  cleft;  the  tree  bends 
forward,  and  the  branches  hang  quite  down  to  the  ground, 
as  if  they  were  long  green  hair. 

On  all  the  fields  round  about  corn  was  growing,  not  only 
rye  and  barley,  but  also  oats;  yes,  the  most  capital  oats, 
which  when  ripe  looks  like  a  number  of  little  yellow  can- 
ary birds  sitting  upon  a  spray.  The  corn  stood  smiling, 
and  the  richer  an  ear  was,  the  deeper  did  it  bend  in  pious 
humility. 

But  there  was  also  a  field  of  Buckwheat,  and  this  field  was 
exactly  opposite  to  the  old  Willow  Tree.  The  Buckwheat 
did  not  bend  at  all,  like  the  rest  of  the  grain,  but  stood  up 
proudly  and  stiffly. 

"I'm  as  rich  as  any  corn-ear,"  said  he.  Moreover,  I'm 
very  much  handsomer;  my  flowers  are  beautiful  as  the  blos- 
soms of  the  apple  tree;  it's  quite  a  delight  to  look  upon  me 
and  mine.  Do  you  know  anything  more  splendid  than  we 
are,  you  old  Willow  Tree?" 

And  the  Willow  Tree  nodded  his  head,  just  as  if  he  would 
have  said,  "Yes,  that's  true  enough!" 


348  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

But  the  Buckwheat  spread  itself  out  in  mere  vainglory, 
and  said: 

"The  stupid  tree!  he's  so  old  that  the  grass  grows  in  his 
body." 

Now  a  terrible  storm  came  on ;  all  the  field  flowers  folded 
their  leaves  together  or  bowed  their  little  heads  while  the 
storm  passed  over  them,  but  the  Buckwheat  stood  erect  in 
its  pride. 

"Bend  your  head  like  us,''  said  the  Flowers. 

"I've  not  the  slightest  cause  to  do  so,"  replied  the  Buck- 
wheat. 

"Bend  your  head  as  we  do,"  cried  the  various  Crops. 
"Now  the  storm  comes  flying  on.  He  has  wings  that  reach 
from  the  clouds  down  to  the  earth,  and  he'll  beat  you  in 
halves  before  you  can  cry  for  mercy." 

"Yes,  but  I  won't  bend,"  quoth  the  Buckwheat. 

"Shut  up  your  flowers  and  bend  your  leaves,''  said  the  old 
Willow  Tree.  "Don't  look  up  at  the  lightning,  when  the 
cloud  bursts;  even  men  do  not  do  that,  for  in  the  lightning 
one  may  look  into  heaven,  but  the  light  dazzles  even  men: 
and  what  would  happen  to  us,  if  we  dared  to  do  so — we.  the 
plants  of  the  field,  that  are  much  less  worthy  than  they?" 

"Much  less  worthy!"  cried  the  Buckwheat.  "Now  I'll 
just  look  straight  up  into  heaven." 

And  it  did  so,  in  its  pride  and  vainglory.  It  was  as  if  the 
whole  world  were  on  fire,  so  vivid  was  the  lightning. 

When  afterward  the  bad  weather  had  passed  by,  the 
flowers  and  the  crops  stood  in  the  still  pure  air,  quite  re- 
freshed by  the  rain;  but  the  Buckwheat  was  burned  coal- 
black  by  the  lightning,  and  it  was  now  like  a  dead  weed 
upon  the  field. 

And  the  old  Willow  Tree  waved  its  branches  in  the  wind, 
and  great  drops  of  water  fell  down  out  of  the  green  leaves 
just  as  if  the  tree  wept. 

And  the  Sparrows  asked,  "Why  do  you  weep?  Here 
everything  is  so  cheerful;  see  how  the  sun  shines,  see  how 
the  clouds  sail  on.  Do  you  not  breathe  the  scent  of  flowers 
and  bushes?     Why  do  you  weep,  Willow  Tree?" 

And  the  Willow  Tree  told  them  of  the  pride  of  the  Buck- 
wheat, of  its  vainglory,  and  of  the  punishment  which  always 
follows  such  sin. 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES.  349 

I,  who  tell  you  this  tale,  have  heard  it  from  the  Sparrows. 
They  told  it  me  one  evening  when  I  begged  them  to  give  me 
a  story. 


THE  OLD  HOUSE. 

Down  yonder,  in  the  street,  stood  an  old,  old  house.  It 
was  almost  three  hundred  years  old,  for  one  could  read  as 
much  on  the  beam,  on  which  was  carved  the  date  of  its 
erection,  surrounded  by  tulips  and  trailing  hops.  There 
one  could  read  entire  verses  in  the  characters  of  olden 
times,  and  over  each  window  a  face  had  been  carved  in  the 
beam,  and  these  faces  made  all  kinds  of  grimaces.  One 
story  projected  a  long  way  above  the  other,  and  close  under 
the  roof  was  a  leaden  gutter  with  a  dragon's  head.  The 
rainwater  was  to  run  out  of  the  dragon's  mouth,  but  it  ran 
out  of  the  creature's  body  instead,  for  there  was  a  hole  in 
the  pipe. 

All  the  other  houses  in  the  street  were  still  new  and  neat, 
with  large  window  panes  and  smooth  walls.  One  could 
easily  see  that  they  could  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  old 
house.  They  thought,  perhaps,  "How  long  is  that  old  rub- 
bish heap  to  stand  there,  a  scandal  to  the  whole  street?  The 
parapet  stands  so  far  forward  that  no  one  can  see  out  of  our 
windows  what  is  going  on  in  that  direction.  The  staircase 
is  as  broad  as  a  castle  staircase,  and  as  steep  as  if  it  led  to  a 
church  tower.  The  iron  railing  looks  like  the  gate  of  a  fam- 
ily vault,  and  there  are  brass  bosses  upon  it.  It's  too  ridicu- 
lous !" 

Just  opposite  stood  some  more  new,  neat  houses  that 
thought  exactly  like  the  rest;  but  here  at  the  window  sat 
a  little  boy,  with  fresh,  red  cheeks,  with  clear,  sparkling 
eyes,  and  he  was  particularly  fond  of  the  old  house,  in  sun- 
shine as  well  as  by  moonlight.  And  when  he  looked  down 
at  the  wall  where  the  plaster  had  fallen  off,  then  he  could  sit 
and  fancy  all  kinds  of  pictures — how  the  street  must  have 
appeared  in  old  times,  with  parapets,  open  staircases,  and 
pointed  gables;  he  could  see  soldiers  with  halberds,  and 
roof-gutters  running  about  in  the  form  of  dragons  and 
griffins.  That  was  just  a  good  house  to  look  at;  and  in  it 
lived  an  old  man,  who  went  about  in  leather  knee  smalls, 


350  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

and  wore  a  coat  with  great  brass  buttons,  and  a  wig,  which 
one  could  at  once  see  was  a  real  wig.  Every  morning  an 
old  man  came  to  him  to  clean  his  rooms  and  run  on  his  er- 
rands. With  this  exception  the  old  man  in  the  leather  knee 
smalls  was  all  alone  in  the  old  house.  Sometimes  he  came 
to  one  of  the  windows  and  looked  out,  and  the  little  boy 
nodded  to  him,  and  the  old  man  nodded  back,  and  thus 
they  became  acquainted  and  became  friends,  though  they 
had  never  spoken  to  one  another;  but,  indeed,  that  was  not 
at  all  necessary. 

The  little  boy  heard  his  parents  say,  'The  old  man  op- 
posite is  very  well  off,  but  he  is  terribly  lonely." 

Next  Sunday  the  little  boy  wrapped  something  in  a  piece 
of  paper,  went  with  it  to  the  house  door,  and  said  to  the 
man  who  ran  errands  for  the  old  gentleman: 

"Harkye;  will  you  take  this  to  the  old  gentleman  oppo- 
site for  me?  I  have  two  tin  soldiers;  this  is  one  of  them, 
and  he  shall  have  it,  because  I  know  that  he  is  terribly 
lonely." 

And  the  old  attendant  looked  quite  pleased,  and  nodded, 
and  carried  the  Tin  Soldier  into  the  old  house.  Afterward 
he  was  sent  over,  to  ask  if  the  little  boy  would  not  like  to 
come  himself  and  pay  a  visit.  His  parents  gave  him  leave; 
and  so  it  was  that  he  came  to  the  old  house. 

The  brass  bosses  on  the  staircase  shone  much  more 
brightly  than  usual ;  one  would  have  thought  they  had  been 
polished  in  honor  of  his  visit.  And  it  was  just  as  if  the 
carved  trumpeters — for  on  the  doors  there  were  carved 
trumpeters,  standing  in  tulips — were  blowing  with  all  their 
might;  their  cheeks  looked  much  rounder  than  before.  Yes, 
they  blew  "Tan-ta-ra-ra!  the  little  boy's  coming!  tan-ta- 
ra-ra!"  and  then  the  door  opened.  The  whole  of  the  hall 
was  hung  with  old  portraits  of  knights  in  armor  and  ladies 
in  silk  gowns;  and  the  armor  rattled  and  the  silk  dresses 
rustled;  and  then  came  a  staircase  that  went  up  a  great  way 
and  down  a  little  way,  and  then  one  came  to  a  balcony 
which  was  certainly  in  a  very  rickety  state,  with  long  cracks 
and  great  holes;  but  out  of  all  these  grew  grass  and  leaves, 
for  the  whole  balcony,  the  courtyard,  and  the  wall  were 
overgrown  with  so  much  green  that  it  looked  like  a  gar- 
den, but  it  was  only  a  balcony.  Here  stood  old  flower  pots 
that  had  faces  with  asses'  ears;  but  the  flowers  grew  just 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  351 

as  they  chose.  In  one  pot  pinks  were  growing  over  on  all 
sides;  that  is  to  say,  the  green  stalks,  sprout  upon  sprout, 
and  they  said  quite  plainly,  "The  air  has  caressed  me  and 
the  sun  has  kissed  me,  and  promised  me  a  little  flower  for 
next  Sunday,  a  little  flower  next  Sunday !" 

And  then  they  came  to  a  room  where  the  walls  were 
covered  with  pig  skin,  and  golden  flowers  had  been  stamped 
on  the  leather. 

"Flowers  fade  fast. 
But  pig-skin  will  last," 

said  the  walls.  And  there  stood  chairs  with  quite  high 
backs,  with  carved  work  and  elbows  on  each  side. 

"Sit  down!''  said  they.  "Oh,  how  it  cracks  inside  me! 
Now  I  shall  be  sure  to  have  the  gout,  like  the  old  cupboard. 
Gout  in  my  back,  ugh!" 

And  then  the  little  boy  came  to  the  room  where  the  old 
man  sat. 

"Thank  you  for  the  Tin  Soldier,  my  little  friend,"  said 
the  old  man,  "and  thank  you  for  coming  over  to  me." 

"Thanks!  thanks!"  or  "Crick!  crack!"  said  all  the  fur- 
niture; there  were  so  many  pieces  that  they  almost  stood 
in  each  other's  way  to  see  the  little  boy. 

And  in  the  middle,  on  the  wall,  hung  a  picture,  a  beauti- 
ful lady,  young  and  cheerful  in  appearance,  but  dressed  just 
like  people  of  the  old  times,  with  powder  in  her  hair  and 
skirts  that  stuck  out  stiffly.  She  said  neither  thanks  nor 
crack,  but  looked  down  upon  the  little  boy  with  her  mild 
eyes;   and  he  at  once  asked  the  old  man: 

"Where  did  you  get  her  from?" 

"From  the  dealer  opposite,''  replied  the  old  man.  "Many 
pictures  are  always  hanging  there.  No  one  knew  them  or 
troubled  himself  about  them,  for  they  are  all  buried.  But 
many  years  ago  I  knew  this  lady,  and  now  she's  been  dead 
and  gone  for  half  a  century." 

And  under  the  picture  hung,  behind  glass,  a  nosegay  of 
withered  flowers;  they  were  certainly  also  half  a  century  old 
— at  least  they  looked  it;  and  the  pendulum  of  the  great 
clock  went  to  and  fro,  and  the  hands  turned  round  and 
everything  in  the  room  grew  older  still,  but  no  one  noticed 
it. 


352  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"They  say  at  home,"  said  the  Httle  boy,  "that  you  are  al- 
ways terribly  solitary." 

"Oh,"  answered  the  old  man,  "old  thoughts  come,  with  all 
that  they  bring,  to  visit  me;  and  now  you  are  coming,  too, 
I'm  very  well  off." 

And  then  he  took  from  a  shelf  a  book  with  pictures ;  there 
were  long  processions  of  wonderful  coaches,  such  as  one 
never  sees  at  the  present  day,  soldiers  like  the  knave  of 
clubs,  and  citizens  with  waving  flags.  The  tailors  had  a 
flag  with  shears  on  it  held  by  two  lions,  and  the  shoemakers 
a  flag  without  boots,  but  with  an  eagle  that  had  two  heads ; 
for  among  the  shoemakers  everything  must  be  so  arranged 
that  they  can  say,  "There's  a  pair."  Yes,  that  was  a  picture 
book!  And  the  old  man  went  into  the  other  room,  to  fetch 
preserves,  and  apples,  and  nuts.  It  was  reall}^  glorious  in 
that  old  house. 

'T  can't  stand  it!"  said  the  Tin  Soldier,  who  stood  upon 
the  shelf.  "It  is  terribly  lonely  and  dull  here.  When  a  per- 
son has  been  accustomed  to  family  life,  one  cannot  get  ac- 
customed to  their  existence  here.  I  cannot  stand  it!  The 
day  is  long  enough,  but  the  evening  is  longer  still!  Here 
it  is  not  at  all  like  in  your  house  opposite,  where  your  father 
and  mother  were  always  conversing  cheerfully  together, 
and  you  and  all  the  other  dear  children  made  a  famous 
noise.  How  solitary  it  is  here  at  the  old  man's!  Do  you 
think  he  gets  any  kisses?  Do  you  think  he  gets  friendly 
looks,  or  a  Christmas  tree?  He'll  get  nothing  but  a  grave! 
I  cannot  stand  it!" 

"You  must  not  look  at  it  from  the  sorrowful  side,"  said 
the  little  boy.  "To  me  all  appears  remarkably  pretty,  and  all 
the  old  thoughts,  with  all  they  bring  with  them,  come  to 
visit  here." 

"Yes,  but  I  don't  see  them,  and  don't  know  them,"  ob- 
jected the  Tin  Soldier.    "I  can't  bear  it!" 

"You  must  bear  it."  said  the  little  boy. 

And  the  old  man  came  with  the  pleasantest  face  and  with 
the  best  of  preserved  fruits  and  apples  and  nuts;  and  then 
the  little  boy  thought  no  more  of  the  Tin  Soldier.  Happy 
and  delighted,  the  youngster  went  home;  and  days  went 
by,  weeks  went  by,  and  there  was  much  nodding  from  the 
boy's  home  across  to  the  old  house  and  back;  and  then  the 
little  boy  went  over  there  again. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  353 

And  the  carved  trumpeters  blew,  "Tan-ta-ra-ra !  tan-ta-ra- 
ra!  there's  the  Httle  boy,  tan-ta-ra-ra !"  and  the  swords  and 
armor  on  the  old  pictures  rattled,  and  the  silken  dresses 
rustled,  and  the  leather  told  tales,  and  the  old  chairs  had  the 
gout  in  their  backs.  Ugh!  it  was  just  like  the  first  time,  for 
over  there  one  day  or  one  hour  was  just  like  another. 

"I  can't  stand  it!"  said  the  Tin  Soldier.  "I've  wept  tears 
of  tin.  It's  too  dreamy  here.  I  had  rather  go  to  war  and 
lose  my  arms  and  legs;  at  any  rate,  that's  a  change.  I  can- 
not stand  it !  Now  I  know  what  it  means  to  have  a  visit  from 
one's  old  thoughts,  and  all  they  bring  with  them.  I've  had 
visits  from  my  own,  and  you  may  believe  me,  that's  no 
pleasure  in  the  long  run.  I  was  very  nearly  jumping  down 
from  the  shelf.  I  could  see  you  all  in  the  house  opposite  as 
plainly  as  if  you  had  been  here.  It  was  Sunday  morning, 
and  you  children  were  all  standing  round  the  table  singing 
the  psalm  you  sing  every  morning.  You  were  standing 
reverently,  with  folded  hands,  and  your  father  and  mother 
were  just  as  piously  disposed;  then  the  door  opened,  and 
your  little  sister  Maria,  who  is  not  two  years  old  yet  and 
v/ho  always  dances  when  she  hears  music  or  singing,  of 
whatever  description  they  may  be,  was  brought  in.  She  was 
not  to  do  it,  but  she  immediately  began  to  dance,  though 
she  could  not  get  into  right  time,  for  the  music  was  too 
slow,  so  she  first  stood  on  one  leg  and  bent  her  head  quite 
over  in  front,  but  it  was  not  long  enough.  You  all  stood 
very  quietly,  though  that  was  rather  difficult;  but  I  laughed 
inwardly,  and  so  I  fell  down  from  the  table  and  got  a  bruise, 
which  I  have  still ;  for  it  was  not  right  of  one  to  laugh.  But 
all  this,  and  all  the  rest  that  I  have  experienced,  now  passes 
by  my  inward  vision,  and  those  must  be  the  old  thoughts 
with  everything  they  bring  with  them.  Tell  me,  do  you 
still  sing  on  Sunday?  Tell  me  something  about  Httle  Maria. 
And  how  is  my  comrade  and  brother  Tin  Soldier?  Yes,  he 
must  be  very  happy.    I  can't  stand  it!" 

"You  have  been  given  away,"  said  the  little  boy.  "You 
must  stay  where  you  are.     Don't  you  see  that?" 

And  the  old  man  came  with  a  box  in  which  many  things 
were  to  be  seen;  little  rouge-pots  and  scent-boxes;  and  old 
cards  so  large  and  so  richly  gilt  as  one  never  sees  them  in 
these  days;  and  many  little  boxes  were  opened;  likewise 
the  piano,  and  in  this  were  painted  landscapes,  inside  the 

23 


354  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

lid.  But  the  piano  was  quite  hoarse  when  the  old  man 
played  upon  it;  and  then  he  nodded  to  the  picture  that  he 
had  bought  at  the  dealer's,  and  then  the  old  man's  eyes 
shone  quite  brightly. 

"I'll  go  to  the  war!  I'll  go  to  the  war!"  cried  the  Tin 
Soldier  as  loud  as  he  could;  and  he  threw  himself  down  on 
the  floor. 

Where  had  he  gone?  The  old  man  searched,  the  little 
boy  searched,  but  he  was  gone,  and  could  not  be  found. 

"I  shall  find  him,"  said  the  old  man. 

But  he  never  fovmd  him;  the  flooring  was  so  open  and  full 
of  holes,  that  the  Tin  Soldier  had  fallen  through  a  crack, 
and  there  he  lay,  as  in  an  open  grave. 

And  the  day  passed  away,  and  the  little  boy  went  home; 
and  the  week  passed  by,  and  many  weeks  passed  by.  The 
windows  were  quite  frozen  up,  and  the  little  boy  had  to  sit 
and  breathe  upon  the  panes,  to  make  a  peep-hole  to  look  at 
the  old  house ;  and  snow  had  blown  among  all  the  carvings 
and  the  inscriptions,  and  covered  the  whole  staircase,  as  if 
no  one  were  in  the  house  at  all.  And,  indeed,  there  was  no 
one  in  the  house,  for  the  old  man  had  died! 

In  the  evening  a  carriage  stopped  at  the  door,  and  in  that 
he  was  laid,  in  his  coffin ;  he  was  to  rest  in  a  family  vault  in 
the  country.  So  he  was  carried  away;  but  no  one  followed 
him  on  his  last  journey,  for  all  his  friends  were  dead.  And 
the  little  boy  kissed  his  hand  after  the  coffin  as  it  rolled 
away. 

A  few  days  later,  and  there  was  an  auction  in  the  old 
house;  and  the  little  boy  saw  from  his  window  how  the  old 
knights  and  ladies,  the  flower  pots  with  the  long  ears,  the 
chairs  and  the  cupboards  were  carried  away.  One  was 
taken  here,  and  then  there;  her  portrait,  that  had  been 
bought  by  the  dealer,  went  back  into  his  shop,  and  there 
it  was  hung,  for  no  one  cared  for  the  old  picture. 

In  the  spring  the  house  itself  was  pulled  down,  for  the 
people  said  it  was  old  rubbish.  One  could  look  from  the 
street  straight  into  the  room  with  the  leather  wall-covering, 
which  was  taken  down,  ragged  and  torn;  and  the  green  of 
the  balcony  hung  straggling  over  the  beams,  that  threat- 
ened to  fall  in  altogether.    And  now  a  clearance  was  made. 

"That  does  good !"  said  a  neighbor. 

And  a  capital  house  was  built,  with  large  windows  and 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES.  355 

smooth  white  walls;  but  in  front  of  the  place,  where  the  old 
house  had  really  stood,  a  little  garden  was  planted,  and  by 
the  neighbor's  wall  tall  vine  shoots  clambered  up.  In  front 
of  the  garden  was  placed  a  great  iron  railing  with  an  iron 
door;  and  it  had  a  stately  look.  The  people  stepped  in 
front,  and  looked  through.  And  the  sparrows  sat  down  in 
dozens  upon  the  vine  branches,  and  chattered  all  at  once  as 
loud  as  they  could;  but  not  about  the  old  house,  for  they 
could  not  remember  that,  for  many  years  had  gone  by — so 
many,  that  the  little  boy  had  grown  to  be  a  man,  a  thorough 
man,  whose  parents  rejoiced  in  him.  And  he  had  just  mar- 
ried, and  was  come  with  his  wife  to  live  in  the  house,  in 
front  of  which  was  the  garden;  and  here  he  stood  next  to 
her  while  she  planted  a  field  flower  which  she  considered 
very  pretty;  she  planted  it  with  her  little  hand,  pressing 
the  earth  close  round  it  with  her  fingers.  "Ah,  what  was 
that?"  She  pricked  herself.  Out  of  the  soft  earth  some- 
thing pointed  was  sticking  up.  Only  think!  that  was  the 
Tin  Soldier,  the  same  that  had  been  lost  up  in  the  old  man's 
room,  and  had  been  hidden  among  old  wood  and  rubbish 
for  a  long  time,  and  had  lain  in  the  ground  many  a  year. 
And  the  young  wife  first  dried  the  Soldier  in  a  green  leaf, 
and  then  with  her  fine  handkerchief,  that  smelt  so  deli- 
ciously.  And  the  Tin  Soldier  felt  as  if  he  were  waking  from 
a  fainting  fit. 

"Let  me  see  him,"  said  the  young  man.  And  then  he 
smiled  and  shook  his  head.  "Yes,  it  can  scarcely  be  the 
same;  but  it  reminds  me  of  an  affair  with  a  Tin  Soldier 
which  I  had  when  I  was  a  little  boy." 

And  then  he  told  his  wife  about  the  old  house,  and  the 
old  man,  and  of  the  Tin  Soldier  he  had  sent  across  to  the  old 
man  whom  he  had  thought  so  lonely;  and  the  tears  came 
into  the  young  wife's  eyes  for  the  old  house  and  the  old 
man. 

"It  is  possible,  after  all,  that  it  may  be  the  same  Tin  Sol- 
dier," said  she.  "I  will  take  care  of  him,  and  remember 
what  you  have  told  me;  but  you  must  show  me  the  old 
man's  grave." 

"I  don't  know  where  that  is,"  replied  he,  "and  no  one 
knows  it.  All  his  friends  were  dead;  none  tended  his  grave, 
and  I  was  but  a  little  boy." 

"Ah,  how  terribly  lonely  he  must  have  been!"  said  she. 


356  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

''Yes,  horribly  lonely,"  said  the  Tin  Soldier;  "but  it  is 
glorious  not  to  be  forgotten." 

"Glorious!"  repeated  a  voice  close  to  them. 

But  nobody  except  the  Tin  Soldier  perceived  that  it  came 
from  a  rag  of  the  pig's  leather  hangings,  which  was  now  de- 
void of  all  gilding.  It  looked  like  wet  earth,  but  yet  it  had 
an  opinion,  which  it  expressed  thus: 

"Gilding  fades  fast, 
Pig-skin  will  last!" 

But  the  Tin  Soldier  did  not  believe  that. 


THE  HAPPY  FAMILY. 

The  biggest  leaf  here  in  the  country  is  certainly  the  bur- 
dock leaf.  Put  one  in  front  of  your  waist  and  it's  just  like 
an  apron,  and  if  you  lay  it  upon  your  head  it  is  almost  as 
good  as  an  umbrella,  for  it  is  quite  remarkably  large.  A 
burdock  never  grows  alone;  where  there  is  one  tree  there 
are  several  more.  It's  splendid  to  behold!  and  all  this 
splendor  is  snail's  meat;  the  great  white  snails,  which  the 
grand  people  in  old  times  used  to  have  made  into  fricassees, 
and  when  they  had  eaten  them  they  would  say,  "H'm,  how 
good  that  is !"  for  they  had  the  idea  that  it  tasted  delicious. 
These  snails  lived  on  burdock  leaves,  and  that's  why  bur- 
docks were  sown. 

Now,  there  was  an  old  estate,  on  which  people  ate  snails 
no  longer.  The  snails  had  died  out,  but  the  burdocks  had 
not.  These  latter  grew  and  grew  in  all  the  walks  and  on  all 
the  beds — there  was  no  stopping  them;  the  place  became  a 
complete  forest  of  burdocks.  Here  and  there  stood  an  apple 
or  plum  tree;  but  for  this,  nobody  would  have  thought  a 
garden  had  been  there.  Everything  was  burdock,  and 
among  the  burdocks  lived  the  two  last  ancient  Snails. 

They  did  not  know  themselves  how  old  they  were,  but 
they  could  very  well  remember  that  there  had  been  a  great 
many  more  of  them,  that  they  had  descended  from  a  foreign 
family,  and  that  the  whole  forest  had  been  planted  for  them 
and  theirs.    They  had  never  been  away  from  home,  but  it 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  357 

was  known  to  them  that  something  existed  in  the  world 
called  the  ducal  palace,  and  that  there  one  was  boiled,  and 
one  became  black,  and  was  laid  upon  a  silver  dish;  but 
what  was  done  afterward  they  did  not  know.  Moreover, 
they  could  not  imagine  what  that  might  be,  being  boiled 
and  laid  upon  a  silver  dish;  but  it  was  stated  to  be  fine,  and 
particularly  grand!  Neither  the  cockchafer,  nor  the  toad, 
nor  the  earthworm,  whom  they  questioned  about  it,  could 
give  them  any  inform.ation,  for  none  of  their  own  kind  had 
ever  been  boiled  and  laid  on  silver  dishes. 

The  old  white  Snails  were  the  grandest  in  the  world;  they 
knev/  that!  The  forest  was  there  for  their  sake,  and  the 
ducal  palace,  too,  so  that  they  might  be  boiled  and  laid  on 
silver  dishes. 

They  led  a  very  retired  and  happy  life,  and  as  they  them- 
selves were  childless,  they  had  adopted  a  little  common 
Snail,  which  they  brought  up  as  their  own  child.  But  the 
little  thing  would  not  grow,  for  it  was  only  a  common  Snail, 
though  the  old  people,  and  particularly  the  mother,  declared 
one  could  easily  see  how  he  grew.  And  when_  the  father 
could  not  see  it,  she  requested  him  to  feel  the  little  Snail's 
shell,  and  he  felt  it,  and  acknowledged  that  she  was  right. 
One  day  it  rained  very  hard. 

"Listen,  how  it's  drumming  on  the  burdock  leaves,  rum- 
dum-dum!    rum-dum-dum!"    said  the  Father  Snail. 

"That's  what  I  call  drops,"  said  the  mother.  "It's  coming 
straight  down  the  stalks.  "You'll  see  it  will  be  wet  here 
directly.  I'm  only  glad  that  we  have  our  good  houses,  and 
that  the  little  one  has  his  own.  There  has  been  more  done 
for  us  than  for  any  other  creature;  one  can  see  very  plainly 
that  we  are  the  grand  folks  of  the  world!  We  have  houses 
from  our  birth,  and  the  burdock  forest  has  been  planted  for 
us ;  I  should  like  to  know  how  far  it  extends,  and  what  lies 
beyond  it." 

"There's  nothing,"  said  the  Father  Snail,  "that  can  be 
better  than  here  at  home ;  I  have  nothing  at  all  to  wish  for." 

"Yes,"  said  the  mother,  "I  should  like  to  be  taken  to  the 
ducal  palace,  and  be  boiled  and  laid  upon  a  silver  dish;  that 
has  been  done  to  all  our  ancestors,  and  you  may  be  sure  it's 
quite  a  distinguished  honor." 

"The  ducal  palace  has  perhaps  fallen  in,"  said  the  Father 
Snail,  "or  the  forest  of  burdocks  may  have  grown  over  it,  so 

LIBRARY 

OF 

UN'VER     1 
ST.  LOUiS  •  O 


358  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

that  the  people  can't  get  out  at  all.  You  need  not  be  in  a 
hurry — but  you  always  hurry  so,  and  the  little  one  is  begin- 
ning just  the  same  way.  Has  he  not  been  creeping  up  that 
stalk  these  three  days?  My  head  quite  aches  when  I  look 
up  at  him." 

"You  must  not  scold  him,"  said  the  Mother  Snail.  "He 
crawls  very  deliberately.  We  shall  have  much  joy  in  him; 
and  we  old  people  have  nothing  else  to  live  for.  But  have 
you  ever  thought  where  we  shall  get  a  wife  for  him?  Don't 
you  think  that  farther  in  the  wood  there  may  be  some  more 
of  our  kind?" 

"There  may  be  black  snails  there,  I  think,"  said  the  old 
man,  "black  snails  without  houses!  but  they're  too  vulgar. 
And  they're  conceited,  for  all  that.  But  we  can  give  the 
commission  to  the  Ants ;  they  run  to  and  fro,  as  if  they  had 
business ;  they're  sure  to  know  of  a  wife  for  our  young  gen- 
tleman." 

"I  certainly  know  the  most  beautiful  of  brides,"  said  one 
of  the  Ants;  "but  I  fear  she  would  not  do,  for  she  is  the 
Queen!" 

"That  does  not  matter,"  said  the  two  old  Snails.  "Has  she 
a  house?" 

"She  has  a  castle !"  replied  the  Ant.  "The  most  beautiful 
ant's  castle,  with  seven  hundred  passages." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  Mother  Snail;  "our  boy  shall  not 
go  into  an  ant  hill.  If  you  know  of  nothing  better,  we'll 
give  the  commission  to  the  white  Gnats;  they  fly  far  about 
in  rain  and  sunshine,  and  they  know  the  burdock  wood,  in- 
side and  outside." 

"We  have  a  wife  for  him,"  said  the  Gnats.  "A  hundred 
man-steps  from  here  a  little  Snail  with  a  house  is  sitting  on  a 
gooseberry  bush;  she  is  quite  alone,  and  old  enough  to 
marry.    It's  only  a  hundred  man-steps  from  here." 

"Yes,  let  her  come  to  him,"  said  the  old  people.  "He  has 
a  whole  burdock  forest,  and  she  has  only  a  bush." 

And  so  they  brought  the  little  maiden  Snail.  Eight  days 
passed  before  she  arrived,  but  that  was  the  rare  circumstance 
about  it,  for  by  this  one  could  see  that  she  was  of  the  right 
kind. 

And  then  they  had  a  wedding.  Six  Glowworms  lighted 
as  well  as  they  could ;  with  this  exception  it  went  very 
quietly,  for  the  old  Snail  people  could  not  bear  feasting  and 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  359 

dissipation.  But  a  capital  speech  was  made  by  the  Mother 
Snail.  The  father  could  not  speak,  he  was  so  much  moved. 
Then  they  gave  the  young  couple  the  whole  burdock  forest 
for  an  inheritance,  and  said,  what  they  had  always  said, 
namely — that  it  was  the  best  place  in  the  world,  and  that 
the  young  people,  if  they  lived  honorably,  and  increased  and 
multiplied,  would  some  day  be  taken  with  their  children  to 
the  ducal  palace,  and  boiled  black,  and  laid  upon  a  silver 
dish.  And  when  the  speech  was  finished,  the  old  people 
crept  into  their  houses  and  never  came  out  again,  for  they 
slept. 

The  young  Snail  pair  now  ruled  in  the  forest,  and  had  a 
numerous  progeny.  But  as  the  young  ones  were  never 
boiled  and  put  into  silver  dishes,  they  concluded  that  the 
ducal  palace  had  fallen  in,  and  that  all  the  people  in  the 
world  had  died  out.  And  as  nobody  contradicted  them, 
they  must  have  been  right.  And  the  rain  fell  down  upon  the 
burdock  leaves  to  play  the  drum  for  them,  and  the  sun  shone 
to  color  the  burdock  forest  for  them ;  and  they  were  happy, 
very  happy — the  whole  family  was  happy,  uncommonly 
happy ! 


THE  ROSE-ELF. 

In  the  midst  of  the  garden  grew  a  rose  bush,  which  was 
quite  covered  with  roses;  and  in  one  of  them,  the  most 
beautiful  of  all,  there  dwelt  an  elf.  He  was  so  tiny  that  no 
human  eye  could  see  him.  Behind  every  leaf  in  the  rose  he 
had  a  bedroom.  He  was  as  well  formed  and  beautiful  as 
any  child  could  be,  and  had  wings  that  reached  from  his 
shoulders  to  his  feet.  Oh,  what  a  fragrance  there  was  in  his 
room!  And  how  clear  and  bright  were  the  walls!  They 
were  made  of  the  pale  pink  rose  leaves. 

The  whole  day  he  rejoiced  in  the  warm  sunshine,  flew 
from  flower  to  flower,  danced  on  the  wings  of  the  flying  but- 
terfly, and  measured  how  many  steps  he  would  have  to  take 
to  pass  along  all  the  roads  and  cross  roads  that  are  marked 
out  on  a  single  hidden  leaf.  What  we  call  veins  on  the  leaf 
were  to  him  high  and  cross  roads.  Yes,  those  were  long 
roads  for  him!  Before  he  had  finished  his  journey  the  sun 
went  down,  for  he  had  begun  his  work  too  late! 


360  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TAI>ES. 

It  became  very  cold,  the  dew  fell,  and  the  wind  blew;  now 
the  best  thing  to  be  done  was  to  come  home.  He  made 
what  haste  he  could,  but  the  rose  had  shut  itself  up,  and 
he  could  not  get  in;  not  a  single  rose  stood  open.  The 
poor  little  elf  was  very  much  frightened.  He  had  never 
been  out  at  night  before;  he  had  always  slumbered  sweetly 
and  comfortably  behind  the  warm  rose  leaves.  Oh,  it  cer- 
tainly would  be  the  death  of  him. 

At  the  other  end  of  the  garden  there  was,,  he  knew,  an 
arbor  of  fine  honeysuckle.  The  flowers  looked  like  great 
painted  horns,  and  he  wished  to  go  down  into  one  of  them 
to  sleep  till  the  next  day. 

He  flew  thither.  Silence!  Two  people  were  in  there — a 
handsome  young  man  and  a  young  girl.  They  sat  side  by 
side,  and  wished  that  they  need  never  part.  They  loved 
each  other  better  than  a  good  child  loves  its  father  and 
mother. 

"Yet  we  must  part!"  said  the  young  man.  "Your 
brother  does  not  like  us,  therefore  he  sends  me  away  on  an 
errand  so  far  over  mountains  and  seas.  Farewell,  my  sweet 
bride,  for  that  you  shall  be !" 

And  they  kissed  each  other,  and  the  young  girl  wept,  and 
gave  him  a  rose.  But,  before  she  gave  it  him,  she  impressed 
a  kiss  so  firmly  and  closely  upon  it  that  the  flower  opened. 
Then  the  little  elf  flew  into  it,  and  leaned  his  head  against 
the  delicate,  fragrant  walls.  Here  he  could  plainly  hear 
them  say  "Farewell!  farewell!"  and  he  felt  that  the  rose  was 
placed  on  the  young  man's  heart.  Oh.  how  that  heart  beat! 
The  little  elf  could  not  go  to  sleep,  it  thumped  so. 

But  not  long  did  the  rose  rest  undisturbed  on  that  breast. 
The  man  took  it  out,  and  as  he  went  lonely  through  the 
wood,  he  kissed  the  flower  so  often  and  so  fervently  that  the 
little  elf  was  almost  crushed.  He  could  feel  through  the 
leaf  how  the  man's  lips  burned,  and  the  rose  itself  had 
opened,  as  if  under  the  hottest  noonday  sun. 

Then  came  another  man,  gloomy  and  wicked;  he  was  the 
bad  brother  of  the  pretty  maiden.  He  drew  out  a  sharp 
knife,  and  while  the  other  kissed  the  rose  the  bad  man 
stabbed  him  to  death,  and  then,  cutting  ofif  his  head,  buried 
both  head  and  body  in  the  soft  earth  under  the  linden  tree, 

"Now  he's  forgotten  and  gone!"  thought  the  wicked 
brother;  "he  will  never  come  back  again.    He  was  to  have 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  361 

taken  a  long  journey  over  mountains  and  seas.  One  can 
easily  lose  one's  life,  and  he  has  lost  his.  He  cannot  come 
back  again,  and  my  sister  dare  not  ask  news  of  him  from 
me." 

Then  with  his  feet  he  shuffled  dry  leaves  over  the  loose 
earth,  and  went  home  in  the  dark  night.  But  he  did  not  go 
alone,  as  he  thought;  the  little  elf  accompanied  him.  The 
elf  sat  in  a  dry  rolled-up  linden  leaf  that  had  fallen  on  the 
wicked  man's  hair  as  he  dug.  The  hat  was  now  placed  over 
the  leaf,  and  it  was  very  dark  in  the  hat,  and  the  elf  trembled 
with  fear  and  with  anger  at  the  evil  deed. 

In  the  morning  hour  the  bad  man  got  home;  he  took  of¥ 
his  hat,  and  went  into  his  sister's  bedroom.  There  lay  the 
beautiful,  blooming  girl,  dreaming  of  him  whom  she  loved 
from  her  heart,  and  of  whom  she  now  believed  that  he  was 
going  across  the  mountains  and  through  the  forests.  And 
the  wicked  brother  bent  over  her,  and  laughed  hideously, 
as  only  a  fiend  can  laugh.  Then  the  dry  leaf  fell  out  of  his 
hair  upon  the  coverlet;  but  he  did  not  remark  it,  and  he 
went  out  to  sleep  a  little  himself  in  the  morning  hour.  But 
the  elf  slipped  forth  from  the  withered  leaf,  placed  himself 
in  the  ear  of  the  sleeping  girl,  and  told  her,  as  in  a  dream, 
the  dreadful  history  of  the  murder;  described  to  her  the 
place  where  her  brother  had  slain  her  lover  and  buried  his 
corpse;  told  her  of  the  blooming  linden  tree  close  by  it,  and 
said : 

"That  you  may  not  think  it  is  only  a  dream  that  I  have 
told  you,  you  will  find  on  your  bed  a  withered  leaf." 

And  she  found  it  when  she  awoke.  Oh,  what  bitter  tears 
she  wept!  The  window  stood  open  the  whole  day;  the  lit- 
tle elf  could  easily  get  out  to  the  roses  and  all  the  other  flow- 
ers, but  he  could  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to  quit  the  afflicted 
maiden.  In  the  window  stood  a  plant,  a  monthly  rose  bush; 
he  seated  himself  in  one  of  the  flowers,  and  looked  at  the 
poor  girl.  Her  brother  often  came  into  the  room,  and,  in 
spite  of  his  wicked  deed,  he  always  seemed  cheerful,  but  she 
dared  not  say  a  word  of  the  grief  that  was  in  her  heart. 

As  soon  as  the  night  came,  she  crept  out  of  the  house, 
went  to  the  wood,  to  the  place  where  the  linden  tree  stood, 
removed  the  leaves  from  the  ground,  turned  up  the  earth, 
and  immediately  found  him  who  had  been  slain.  Oh,  how 
she  wept,  and  prayed  that  she  might  die  also! 


362  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

Gladly  would  she  have  taken  the  corpse  home  with  her, 
but  that  she  could  not  do  so.  Then  she  took  the  pale  head, 
with  the  closed  eyes,  kissed  the  cold  mouth,  and  shook  the 
earth  out  of  the  beautiful  hair.  "That  I  will  keep,"  she 
said.  And  when  she  had  laid  earth  upon  the  dead  body  she 
took  the  head,  and  a  little  sprig-  of  the  jasmine  that  bloomed 
in  the  wood  where  he  was  buried,  home  with  her. 

As  soon  as  she  came  into  her  room,  she  brought  the 
greatest  flower  pot  she  could  find ;  in  this  she  laid  the  dead 
man's  head,  strewed  earth  upon  it,  and  then  planted  the 
jasmine  twig  in  the  pot. 

"Farewell!  farewell!"  whispered  the  little  elf;  he  could 
endure  it  no  longer  to  see  all  this  pain,  and  therefore  flew 
out  to  his  rose  in  the  garden.  But  the  rose  was  faded;  only 
a  few  pale  leaves  clung  to  the  wild  bush. 

"Alas!  how  soon  everything  good  and  beautiful  passes 
away!"   sighed  the  elf. 

At  last  he  found  another  rose,  and  this  became  his  house ; 
behind  its  delicate,  fragrant  leaves  he  could  hide  himself 
and  dwell. 

Every  morning  he  flew  to  the  window  of  the  poor  girl, 
and  she  was  always  standing  weeping  by  the  flower  pot. 
The  bitter  tears  fell  upon  the  jasmine  spray,  and  every  day, 
as  the  girl  became  paler  and  paler,  the  twig  stood  there 
fresher  and  greener,  and  one  shoot  after  another  sprouted 
forth,  little  white  buds  burst  out,  and  these  she  kissed.  But 
the  bad  brother  scolded  his  sister,  and  asked  if  she  had  gone 
mad.  He  could  not  bear  it,  and  could  not  imagine  why  she 
was  always  weeping  over  the  flower-pot.  He  did  not  know 
what  closed  eyes  were  there,  what  red  lips  had  there  faded 
into  earth.  And  she  bowed  her  head  upon  the  flower  pot, 
and  the  little  elf  of  the  rose  bush  found  her  slumbering- 
there.  Then  he  seated  himself  in  her  ear,  told  her  of  the 
evening  in  the  arbor,  of  the  fragrance  of  the  rose,  and  the 
love  of  the  elves.  And  she  dreamed  a  marvelously  sweet 
dream,  and  while  she  dreamed  her  life  passed  away.  She 
had  died  a  quiet  death,  and  she  was  in  heaven,  with  him 
whom  she  loved. 

And  the  jasmine  opened  its  great  white  bells.  They  smelt 
quite  peculiarly  sweet;  it  could  not  weep  in  any  other  way 
over  the  dead  one. 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  363 

But  the  wicked  brother  looked  at  the  beautiful  blooming 
plant,  and  took  it  for  himself  as  an  inheritance,  and  put  it  in 
his  sleeping  room,  close  by  his  bed,  for  it  was  glorious  to 
look  upon,  and  its  fragrance  was  sweet  and  lovely.  The 
little  Rose-elf  followed,  and  went  from  flower  to  flower — 
for  in  each  dwelt  a  little  soul — and  told  of  the  murdered 
young  man,  whose  head  was  now  earth  beneath  the  earth, 
and  told  of  the  evil  brother  and  of  the  poor  sister, 

"We  know  it!"  said  each  soul  in  the  flowers,  "we  know 
it!  have  we  not  sprung  from  the  eyes  and  lips  of  the  mur- 
dered man?    We  know  it!  we  know  it!" 

And  then  they  nodded  in  a  strange  fashion  with  their 
heads. 

The  Rose-elf  could  not  at  all  understand  how  they  could 
be  so  quiet,  and  he  flew  out  to  the  bees  that  were  gathering 
honey,  and  told  them  the  story  of  the  wicked  brother.  And 
the  bees  told  it  to  their  Queen,  and  the  Queen  commanded 
that  they  should  all  kill  the  murderer  next  nxorning.  But 
in  the  night — it  was  the  first  night  that  followed  upon  the 
sister's  death — when  the  brother  was  sleeping  in  his  bed, 
close  to  the  fragrant  jasmine,  each  flower  opened,  and  in- 
visible, but  armed  with  poisonous  spears,  the  flower-souls 
came  out  and  seated  themselves  in  his  ear,  and  told  him  bad 
dreams,  and  then  flew  across  his  lips  and  pricked  his  tongue 
with  the  poisonous  spears. 

"Now  we  have  avenged  the  dead  man!"  they  said,  and 
flew  back  into  the  jasmine's  white  bells. 

When  the  morning  came  and  the  windows  of  the  bed- 
chamber were  opened,  the  Rose-elf  and  the  Queen  Bee  and 
the  whole  swarm  of  bees  rushed  in  to  kill  him. 

But  he  was  dead  already.  People  stood  around  his  bed, 
and  said,  "The  scent  of  the  jasmine  has  killed  him!"  Then 
the  Rose-elf  understood  the  revenge  of  the  flowers,  and 
told  it  to  the  Queen  and  to  the  bees,  and  the  Queen  hummed 
with  the  whole  swarm  around  the  flower  pot.  The  bees 
were  not  to  be  driven  away.  Then  a  man  carried  away  the 
flower  pot,  and  one  of  the  bees  stung  him  in  the  hand,  so 
that  he  let  the  pot  fall,  and  it  broke  in  pieces. 

Then  they  beheld  the  whitened  skull,  and  knew  that  the 
dead  man  on  the  bed  was  a  murderer. 

And  the  Queen  Bee  hummed  in  the  air,  and  sang  of  the 


364  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

revenge  of  the  bees,  and  of  the  Rose-elf,  and  said  that  be- 
hind the  smallest  leaf  there  dwells  One  Avho  can  bring  the 
evil  to  light,  and  repay  it. 


THE  SHADOV/. 

In  the  hot  countries  the  sun  burns  very  strongly;  there 
the  people  become  quite  mahogany  brown,  and  in  the  very 
hottest  countries  they  are  even  burned  into  negroes.  But 
this  time  it  was  only  to  the  hot  countries  that  a  learned  man 
out  of  the  cold  regions  had  come.  He  thought  he  could 
roam  about  there  just  as  he  had  been  accustomed  to  do  at 
home;  but  he  soon  altered  his  opinion.  He  and  all  sensible 
people  had  to  remain  at  home,  where  the  window  shutters 
and  doors  were  shut  all  day  long,  and  it  looked  as  if  all  the 
inmates  were  asleep  or  had  gone  out.  The  narrow  street, 
with  the  high  houses,  in  which  he  lived,  was,  however,  built 
in  such  a  way  that  the  sun  shone  upon  it  from  morning  till 
evening;  it  was  really  quite  unbearable!  The  learned  man 
from  the  cold  regions  was  a  young  man  and  a  clever  man; 
it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  was  sitting  in  a  glowing  oven  that 
exhausted  him  greatly,  and  he  became  quite  thin;  even  his 
Shadow  shriveled  up  and  became  much  smaller  than  it  had 
been  at  home;  the  sun  even  took  the  Shadow  away,  and  it 
did  not  return  till  the  evening  when  the  sun  went  down. 
It  was  really  a  pleasure  to  see  this.  So  soon  as  a  light  was 
brought  into  the  room  the  Shadow  stretched  itself  quite  up 
the  wall,  farther  even  than  the  ceiling,  so  tall  did  it  make 
itself;  it  was  obliged  to  stretch  to  get  strength  again.  The 
learned  man  went  out  into  the  balcony  to  stretch  himself, 
and  so  soon  as  the  stars  came  out  in  the  beautiful  blue  sky, 
he  felt  himself  reviving.  On  all  the  balconies  in  the  streets 
— and  in  the  hot  countries  there  is  a  balcony  to  every  vv'in- 
dow — young  people  now  appeared,  for  one  must  breathe 
fresh  air,  even  if  one  has  got  used  to  becoming  mahogany 
brown;  then  it  became  lively  above  and  below;  the  tink- 
ers and  tailors — by  which  we  mean  all  kinds  of  people — sat 
below  in  the  street;  then  tables  and  chairs  were  brought 
out,  and  candles  burned,  yes,  more  than  a  thousand  candles; 
one  talked  and  then  sang,  and  the  people  walked  to  and  fro; 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  365 

carriages  drove  past,  mules  trotted,  "Kling-ling-ling!"  for 
they  had  bells  on  their  harness;  dead  people  were  buried 
with  solemn  songs;  the  church  bells  rang,  and  it  was  in- 
deed very  lively  in  the  street.  Only  in  one  house,  just  op- 
posite to  that  in  which  the  learned  man  dwelt,  it  was  quite 
quiet,  and  yet  somebody  lived  there,  for  there  were  flowers 
upon  the  balcony,  blooming  beautifully  in  the  hot  sun,  and 
they  could  not  have  done  this  if  they  had  not  been  watered, 
so  that  someone  must  have  watered  them;  therefore,  there 
must  be  people  in  that  house.  Toward  evening  the  door 
was  half  opened,  but  it  was  dark,  at  least  in  the  front  room ; 
farther  back,  in  the  interior,  music  was  heard.  The  strange 
learned  man  thought  this  music  very  lovely,  but  it  was  quite 
possible  that  he  only  imagined  this,  for  out  there  in  the  hot 
countries  he  found  everything  exquisite,  if  only  there  had 
been  no  sun.  The  stranger's  landlord  said  that  he  did  not 
know  who  had  taken  the  opposite  house — one  saw  nobody 
there,  and  so  far  as  the  music  was  concerned,  it  seemed  very 
monotonous  to  him. 

"It  was  just,"  he  said,  "as  if  someone  sat  there,  always 
practicing  a  piece  that  he  could  not  manage — always  the 
same  piece.  He  seemed  to  say,  'I  shall  manage  it,  after  all!' 
but  he  did  not  manage  it,  however  long  he  played." 

Will  the  stranger  awake  at  night?  He  slept  with  the  bal- 
cony door  open;  the  wind  lifted  up  the  curtain  before  it,  and 
he  fancied  that  a  wonderful  radiance  came  from  the  balcony 
of  the  house  opposite;  all  the  flowers  appeared  like  flames 
of  the  most  gorgeous  colors,  and  in  the  midst,  among  the 
flowers,  stood  a  beavitiful  slender  maiden;  it  seemed  as  if  a 
radiance  came  from  her  also.  His  eyes  were  quite  dazzled; 
but  he  had  only  opened  them  too  wide  just  when  he  awoke 
out  of  his  sleep.  With  one  leap  he  was  out  of  bed;  quite 
quietly  he  crept  behind  the  curtain;  but  the  maiden  was 
gone,  the  splendor  was  gone,  the  flowers  gleamed  no  longer, 
but  stood  there  as  beautiful  as  ever.  The  door  was  ajar, 
and  from  within  sounded  music,  so  lovely,  so  charming, 
that  one  fell  into  sweet  thought  at  the  sound.  It  was  just 
like  magic  work. 

But  who  lived  there?  Where  was  the  real  entrance?  for 
toward  the  street  and  toward  the  lane  at  the  side  the  whole 
ground  floor  was  shop  by  shop,  and  the  people  could  not 
always  run  through  there. 


366  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

One  evening  the  stranger  sat  upon  his  balcony;  in  the 
room  just  behind  him  a  Hght  was  burning,  and  so  it  was 
quite  natural  that  his  Shadow  fell  upon  the  wall  of  the  op- 
posite house;  yes,  it  sat  just  among  the  flowers  on  the 
balcony,  and  when  the  stranger  moved  his  Shadow  moved, 
too. 

"I  think  my  Shadow  is  the  only  living  thing  we  see  yon- 
der," said  the  learned  man.  "Look  how  gracefully  it  sits 
among  the  flowers.  The  door  is  only  ajar,  but  the  Shadow 
ought  to  be  sensible  enough  to  walk  in  and  look  round,  and 
then  come  back  and  tell  me  what  it  has  seen." 

"Yes,  you  would  thus  make  yourself  very  useful,"  said 
he,  as  if  in  sport.  "Be  so  good  as  to  slip  in.  Now,  will 
you  go?"  And  then  he  nodded  at  the  Shadow,  and  the 
Shadow  nodded  back  at  him.  "Now  go,  but  don't  stay  away 
altogether.'' 

And  the  stranger  stood  up,  and  the  Shadow  on  the  bal- 
cony opposite  stood  up,  too,  and  the  stranger  moved  round, 
and  if  anyone  had  noticed  closely  he  would  have  remarked 
how  the  Shadow  went  away  in  the  same  moment,  straight 
through  the  half-opened  door  of  the  opposite  house,  as  the 
stranger  returned  to  his  room  and  let  the  curtain  fall. 

Next  morning  the  learned  man  went  out  to  drink  cofifee 
and  read  the  papers. 

"What  is  this?"  said  he,  when  he  came  out  into  the  sun- 
shine. "I  have  no  Shadow!  So  it  really  went  away  yester- 
day evening,  and  did  not  come  back;  that's  very  tiresome." 

And  that  fretted  him,  but  not  so  much  because  the 
Shadow  was  gone  as  because  he  knew  that  there  was  a 
story  of  a  man  without  a  shadow.  All  the  people  in  the 
house  knew  this  story,  and  if  the  learned  man  came  home 
and  told  his  own  history,  they  would  say  that  it  was  only  an 
imitation,  and  he  did  not  choose  them  to  say  that  of  him. 
So  he  would  not  speak  of  it  at  all,  and  that  was  a  very  sensi- 
ble idea  of  his. 

In  the  evening  he  again  went  out  on  his  balcony ;  he  had 
placed  the  light  behind  him,  for  he  knew  that  a  shadow 
always  wants  its  master  for  a  screen,  but  he  could  not  coax 
it  forth.  He  made  himself  little,  he  made  himself  long,  but 
there  was  no  shadow,  and  no  shadow  came.  He  said, 
"Here,  here!"   but  that  did  no  good. 

That  was  vexatious,  but  in  the  warm  countries  all  things 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  367 

grow  very  quickly,  and  after  the  lapse  of  a  week  he  re- 
marked to  his  great  joy  that  a  new  shadow  was  growing 
out  of  his  legs  when  he  went  into  the  sunshine,  so  that  the 
root  must  have  remained  behind.  After  three  weeks  he  had 
quite  a  respectable  shadow,  which,  when  he  started  on  his 
return  to  the  North,  grew  more  and  more,  so  that  at  last  it 
was  so  long  and  great  that  lie  could  very  well  have  parted 
with  half  of  it. 

When  the  learned  man  got  home  he  wrote  books  about 
what  is  true  in  the  world,  and  what  is  good,  and  what  is 
pretty;  and  days  went  by,  and  years  went  by,  many  years. 

He  was  one  evening  sitting  in  his  room  when  there  came 
a  little  quiet  knock  at  the  door.  "Come  in!"  said  he;  but 
nobody  came.  Then  he  opened  the  door,  and  there  stood 
before  him  such  a  remarkably  thin  man  that  he  felt  quite  un- 
comfortable. This  man  was,  however,  very  respectably 
dressed;  he  looked  like  a  man  of  standing. 

"Whom  have  I  the  honor  to  address?"  asked  the  profes- 
sor. 

"Ah!"  replied  the  genteel  man,  "I  thought  you  would  not 
know  me;  I  have  become  so  much  a  body  that  I  have  got 
real  flesh  and  clothes.  You  never  thought  to  see  me  in  such 
a  condition.  Don't  you  know  your  old  Shadow?  You  cer- 
tainly never  thought  I  would  come  again.  Things  have 
gone  remarkably  well  with  me  since  I  was  with  you  last. 
I've  become  rich  in  every  respect;  if  I  want  to  buy  myself 
free  from  servitude,  I  can  do  it !" 

And  he  rattled  a  number  of  valuable  charm_s,  which  hung 
by  his  watch,  and  put  his  hand  upon  the  thick  gold  chain 
which  he  wore  round  his  neck;  and  how  the  diamond  rings 
glittered  on  his  fingers !  and  everything  was  real ! 

"No,  I  cannot  regain  my  self-possession  at  all!"  said  the 
learned  man.    "What's  the  meaning  of  all  this?" 

"Nothing  common,"  said  the  Shadow.  "But  you  your- 
self don't  belong  to  common  folks;  and  I  have,  as  you  very 
well  know,  trodden  in  your  footsteps  from  my  childhood 
upward.  So  soon  as  I  found  that  I  was  experienced  enough 
to  find  my  way  through  the  world  alone,  I  went  away.  I  am 
in  the  most  brilliant  circumstances;  but  I  was  seized  with  a 
kind  of  longing  to  see  you  once  more  before  you  die,  and  I 
wanted  to  see  these  regions  once  more,  for  one  always  holds 
by  one's  fatherland.     I  know  that  you  have  got  another 


368  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

shadow;  have  I  anything  to  pay  to  it,  or  to  you?  You  have 
only  to  tell  me." 

"Is  it  really  you?"  said  the  learned  man.  "Why,  this  is 
wonderful!  I  should  never  have  thought  that  I  should 
ever  meet  my  old  shadow  as  a  man!" 

"Only  tell  me  what  I  have  to  pay,"  said  the  Shadow,  "for 
I  don't  like  to  be  in  anyone's  debt." 

"How  can  you  talk  in  that  way?"  said  the  learned  man. 
"Of  what  debt  can  there  be  a  question  here?  You  are  as 
free  as  anyone.  I  am  exceedingly  pleased  at  your  good 
fortune.  Sit  down,  old  friend,  and  tell  me  a  little  how  it  has 
happened,  and  what  you  saw  in  the  warm  countries,  and  in 
the  house  opposite  ours." 

"Yes,  that  I  will  tell  you,"  said  the  Shadow;  and  it  sat 
down.  "But  then  you  must  promise  me  never  to  tell  anyone 
in  this  town,  when  you  meet  me,  that  I  have  been  your 
shadow.  I  have  the  intention  of  engaging  myself  to  be 
married;   I  can  do  more  than  support  a  fam.ily." 

"Be  quite  easy,"  replied  the  learned  man;  "I  will  tell  no- 
body who  you  really  are.  Here's  my  hand.  I  promise  it, 
and  my  word's  as  good  as  my  bond." 

"A  Shadow's  word  in  return!"  said  the  Shadow,  for  he 
was  obliged  to  talk  in  that  way.  But,  by  the  way,  it  was 
quite  wonderful  how  complete  a  man  he  had  become.  He 
was  dressed  all  in  black,  and  wore  the  very  finest  black 
cloth,  polished  boots,  and  a  hat  that  could  be  crushed  to- 
gether till  it  was  nothing  but  crov^m  and  rim,  besides  what 
we  have  already  noticed  of  him,  namely,  the  charms,  the 
gold  neck-chain,  and  the  diamond  rings.  The  Shadow  was 
indeed  wonderfully  well  clothed;  and  it  was  just  this  that 
made  a  complete  man  of  him. 

"Now  I  will  tell  you,"  said  the  Shadow;  and  then  he  put 
dovvn  his  polished  boots  as  firmly  as  he  could  on  the  arm  of 
the  learned  man's  new  shadow,  that  lay  like  a  poodle  dog  at 
his  feet.  This  was  done  perhaps  from  pride,  perhaps  so 
that  the  new  shadow  might  stick  to  his  feet;  but  the  pros- 
trate shadow  remained  quite  quiet,  so  that  it  might  listen 
well,  for  it  wanted  to  know  how  one  could  get  free  and  work 
up  to  be  one's  own  master. 

"Do  you  know  who  lived  in  the  house  opposite  to  us?" 
asked  the  Shadow.  "That  was  the  most  glorious  of  all;  it 
was  Poetry!    I  was  there  for  three  weeks,  and  that  was  just 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  369 

as  if  one  had  lived  there  a  thousand  years,  and  could  read 
all  that  has  been  written  and  composed.  For  this  I  say, 
and  it  is  truth,  I  have  seen  everything,  and  I  know  every- 
thing!" 

"Poetry!"  cried  the  learned  man.  "Yes,  she  often  lives 
as  a  hermit  in  great  cities.  Poetry?  Yes,  I  myself  saw  her 
for  one  single  brief  mqment,  but  sleep  was  heavy  on  my 
eyes;  she  stood  on  the  balcony,  gleaming  as  the  Northern 
Light  gleams,  flowers  with  living  flames.  Tell  me!  tell 
me!  You  were  upon  the  balcony.  You  went  through  the 
door,  and  then " 

"Then  I  was  in  the  anteroom,"  said  the  Shadow.  "You 
sat  opposite,  and  were  always  looking  across  at  the  ante- 
room. There  was  no  light;  a  kind  of  semi-obscurity 
reigned  there;  but  one  door  after  another  in  a  whole  row 
of  halls  and  rooms  stood  open,  and  there  it  was  light;  and 
the  mass  of  light  would  have  killed  me  if  I  had  got  as  far 
as  to  where  the  maiden  sat.  But  I  was  deliberate,  I  took 
my  time;   and  that's  what  one  must  do." 

"And  what  didst  thou  see  then?"   asked  the  learned  man. 

"I  saw  everything,  and  I  will  tell  you  what;  but — it  is 
really  not  pride  on  my  part — as  a  free  man,  and  with  the 
acquirements  I  possess,  besides  my  good  position  and  my 
remarkable  fortune,  I  wish  you  would  say  you  to  me." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  the  learned  man.  "This  thou  is 
an  old  habit,  and  old  habits  are  difficult  to  alter.  You  are 
perfectly  right,  and  I  will  remember  it.  But  now  tell  me 
everything  you  saw." 

"Everything,"  said  the  Shadow;  "for  I  saw  everything, 
and  I  know  everything." 

"How  did  things  look  in  the  inner  room?"  asked  the 
learned  man.  "Was  it  there  as  in  a  cool  grave?  Was  it 
there  like  as  in  a  holy  temple?  Were  the  chambers  like  the 
starry  sky,  when  one  stands  on  the  high  mountains?" 

"Everything  was  there,"  said  the  Shadow.  "I  was  cer- 
tainly not  quite  inside ;  I  remained  in  the  front  room,  in  the 
half-darkness;  but  I  stood  there  remarkably  well.  I  saw 
everything  and  know  everything.  I  have  been  in  the  ante- 
room at  the  Court  of  Poetry." 

"But  what  did  you  see?  Did  all  the  gods  of  antiquity 
march  through  the  halls?  Did  the  old  heroes  fight  there? 
Did  lovely  children  play  there,  and  relate  their  dreams?" 

24 


270  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"I  tell  you  that  I  have  been  there,  and  so  you  will  easily 
understand  that  I  saw  everything  that  was  to  be  seen.  If 
you  had  got  there  you  would  not  have  remained  a  man ;  but 
I  became  one,  and  at  the  same  time  I  learned  to  understand 
my  inner  being  and  the  relation  in  which  T  stood  to  Poetry. 
Yes,  when  I  was  with  you  I  did  not  think  of  these  things; 
but  you  know  that  whenever  the  sun  rises  or  sets  I  am  won- 
derfully great.  In  the  moonshine  I  was  almost  more  notice- 
able than  you  yourself.  I  did  not  then  understand  my  in- 
ward being;  in  the  anteroom  it  was  revealed  to  me.  I  be- 
came a  man !  I  came  out  ripe.  But  you  were  no  longer  in 
the  warm  countries.  I  was  ashamed  to  go  about  as  a  man 
in  the  state  I  was  then  in;  I  required  boots,  clothes,  and  all 
the  human  varnish  by  which  a  man  is  known.  I  hid  my- 
self; yes,  I  can  confide  a  secret  to  you — you  will  not  put  it 
into  a  book.  I  hid  myself  under  the  cake-woman's  gown; 
the  woman  had  no  idea  how  much  she  concealed.  Only  in 
the  evening  did  I  go  out;  I  ran  about  the  streets  by  moon- 
light; I  stretched  myself  quite  long  up  the  wall;  that  tickled 
my  back  quite  agreeably.  I  ran  up  and  down,  looked 
through  the  highest  windows  into  the  halls  and  through  the 
roof,  where  nobody  could  see,  and  I  saw  what  nobody  saw 
and  what  nobody  ought  to  see.  On  the  whole  it  is  a  bad 
world ;  I  should  not  like  to  be  a  man  if  I  were  not  allowed  to 
be  of  some  consequence.  I  saw  the  most  incomprehensible 
things  going  on  among  men,  and  women,  and  parents,  and 
'dear  incomparable  children.'  I  saw  what  no  one  else  knows, 
but  what  they  all  would  be  very  glad  to  know,  namely,  bad 
goings-on  at  their  neighbors'.  If  I  had  written  a  news- 
paper, how  it  would  have  been  read!  But  I  wrote  directly 
to  the  persons  interested,  and  there  was  terror  in  every  town 
to  which  I  came.  They  were  so  afraid  of  me  that  they  were 
remarkably  fond  of  me.  The  professor  made  me  a  profes- 
sor; the  tailor  gave  me  new  clothes  (I  am  well  provided); 
the  coining  superintendent  coined  money  for  me;  the  wo- 
men declared  I  was  handsome,  and  thus  I  became  the  man 
I  am.  And  now,  farewell!  Here  is  my  card;  I  live  on  the 
sunny  side,  and  am  always  at  home  in  rainy  weather." 

And  the  shadow  went  away. 

"That  was  very  remarkable,''  said  the  learned  man. 

Years  and  days  passed  by  and  the  shadow  came  again. 

"How  goes  it?"  he  asked. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  371 

"Ah!"  said  the  learned  man,  "I'm  writing  about  the  true, 
the  good,  and  the  beautiful;  but  nobody  cares  to  hear  of  any- 
thing of  the  kind;  I  am  quite  in  despair,  for  I  take  that  to 
heart." 

"That  I  do  not,"  said  the  Shadow.  "I'm  becoming  fat  and 
hearty,  and  that's  what  one  must  try  to  become.  You  don't 
understand  the  world,  and  you're  getting  ill.  You  must 
travel.  I'll  make  a  journey  this  summer;  will  you  go  too?  I 
should  like  to  have  a  traveling  companion ;  will  you  go  with 
me  as  my  shadow?  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  take  you,  and 
I'll  pay  the  expenses." 

"I  suppose  you  travel  very  far?"  said  the  learned  man. 

"As  you  take  it,"  replied  the  Shadow.  "A  journey  will  do 
you  a  great  deal  of  good.  Will  you  be  my  shadow? — then 
you  shall  have  everything  on  the  journey  for  nothing." 

"That's  too  strong!"  said  the  learned  man. 

"But  it's  the  way  of  the  world,"  said  the  Shadow,  "and  so 
it  will  remain."     And  he  went  away. 

The  learned  man  was  not  at  all  fortunate.  Sorrow  and 
care  pursued  him,  and  what  he  said  of  the  true  and  the  good 
and  the  beautiful  was  as  little  valued  by  most  people  as  a 
nutmeg  would  be  by  a  cow.     At  last  he  became  quite  ill. 

"You  really  look  like  a  shadow!"  people  said;  and  a  shud- 
der ran  through  him  at  these  words,  for  he  attached  a  pe- 
culiar meaning  to  them. 

"You  must  go  to  a  watering-place!"  said  the  Shadow,  who 
came  to  pay  him  a  visit.  "There's  no  other  help  for  you. 
I'll  take  you  with  me  for  the  sake  of  old  acquaintance.  I'll 
pay  the  expenses  of  the  journey,  and  you  shall  make  a  de- 
scription of  it,  and  shorten  time  for  me  on  the  way.  I  want 
to  visit  a  watering-place.  My  beard  doesn't  grow  quite  as  it 
should,  and  that  is  a  kind  of  illness;  and  a  beard  I  must  have. 
Now  be  reasonable  and  accept  my  proposal;  we  shall  travel 
like  comrades." 

And  they  traveled.  The  Shadow  was  master  now,  and 
the  master  was  shadow;  they  drove  together,  they  rode  to- 
gether, and  walked  side  by  side,  and  before  and  behind  each 
other  just  as  the  sun  happened  to  stand.  The  Shadow  al- 
ways knew  when  to  take  the  place  of  honor.  The  learned 
man  did  not  particularly  notice  this,  for  he  had  a  very  gooci 
heart,  and  was  moreover  particularly  mild  and  friendly. 
Then  one  day  the  master  said  to  the  Shadow: 


372  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"As  we  have  in  this  way  become  travehng  companions, 
and  have  also  from  childhood's  days  grown  up  with  one  an- 
other, shall  we  not  drink  brotherhood?  That  sounds  more 
confidential." 

"You're  saying  a  thing  there,"  said  the  Shadow,  who  was 
now  really  the  master,  "that  is  said  in  a  very  kind  and 
straightforward  way.  I  will  be  just  as  kind  and  straightfor- 
ward. You  who  are  a  learned  gentleman,  know  very  well  how 
wonderful  nature  is.  There  are  some  men  who  cannot  bear 
to  smell  brown  paper,  they  become  sick  at  it;  others  shud- 
der to  the  marrow  of  the  bones  if  one  scratches  wi,th  a  nail 
upon  a  pane  of  glass ;  and  I  for  my  part  have  a  similar  feel- 
ing when  anyone  says  'thou'  to  me ;  I  feel  myself,  as  I  did  in 
my  first  position  with  you,  oppressed  by  it.  You  see  that 
this  is  a  feeling,  not  pride.  I  cannot  let  you  say  'thou'*  to 
me,  but  I  will  gladly  say  'thou'  to  you;  and  thus  your  wish 
will  be  at  any  rate  partly  fulfilled." 

And  now  the  Shadow  addressed  his  former  master  as 
"thou." 

"That's  rather  strong,"  said  the  latter,  ''that  I  am  to  say 
'you,'  while  he  says  'thou.' "  But  he  was  obliged  to  submit 
to  it. 

They  came  to  a  bathing-place,  where  many  strangers 
were,  and  among  them  a  beautiful  young  Princess,  who  had 
this  disease,  that  she  saw  too  sharply,  which  was  very  dis- 
quieting. She  at  once  saw  that  the  new  arrival  was  a  very 
different  personage  from  all  the  rest. 

"They  say  he  is  here  to  get  his  beard  to  grow;  but  I  see 
the  real  reason — he  can't  throw  a  shadow.'' 

She  had  now  become  inquisitive,  and  therefore  she  at  once 
began  a  conversation  with  the  strange  gentleman  on  the 
promenade.  As  a  Princess,  she  was  not  obliged  to  use 
much  ceremony,  therefore  she  said  outright  to  him  at  once: 

"Your  illness  consists  in  this,  that  you  can't  throw  a 
shadow." 

"Your  Royal  Highness  must  be  much  better,"  replied  the 
Shadow.  "I  know  your  illness  consists  in  this,  that  you  see 
too  sharply;  but  you  have  got  the  better  of  that.     I  have  a 

*0n  the  Continent,  people  who  have  drunk  "brotherhood"  ad- 
dress each  other  as  "thou,"  in  preference  to  the  more  ceremoni- 
ous "you." 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  373 

very  unusual  shadow;  don't  you  see  the  person  who  always 
accompanies  me?  Other  people  have  a  common  shadow, 
but  I  don't  love  what  is  common.  One  often  gives  one's 
servants  finer  cloth  for  their  liveries  than  one  wears  oneself, 
and  so  I  have  let  my  shadow  deck  himself  out  like  a  separate 
person ;  yes,  you  see  I  have  often  given  him  a  shadow  of  his 
own.  That  costs  very  much,  but  I  like  to  have  something 
peculiar." 

"How!"  said  the  Princess,  "can  I  really  have  been  cured? 
This  is  the  best  bathing-place  in  existence;  water  has  won- 
derful power  nowadays.  But  I'm  not  going  away  from 
here  yet,  for  now  it  begins  to  be  amusing.  The  foreign 
Prince — for  he  must  be  a  Prince — pleases  me  remarkably 
well.  I  only  hope  his  beard  won't  grow,  for  if  it  does  he'll 
go  away." 

That  evening  the  Princess  and  the  Shadow  danced  to- 
gether in  the  great  ball-rooni.  She  was  light,  but  he  was 
still  lighter;  never  had  she  se>> .  such  a  dancer.  She  told  him 
from  what  country  she  ca  .^c,  and  he  knew  the  country — he 
had  been  there,  but  just  when  she  had  been  absent.  He 
had  looked  through  the  windows  of  her  castle,  from  below 
as  well  as  from  above;  he  had  learned  many  circumstances, 
and  could  therefore  make  allusions,  and  give  replies  to  the 
Princess,  at  which  she  marveled  greatly.  She  thought  he 
must  be  the  cleverest  man  in  all  the  world,  and  was  inspired 
with  great  respect  for  all  his  knowledge.  And  when  she 
danced  with  him  again,  she  fell  in  love  with  him,  and  the 
Shadow  noticed  that  particularly,  for  she  looked  him  almost 
through  and  through  with  her  eyes.  They  danced  together 
once  more,  and  she  was  nearly  telling  him,  but  she  was  dis- 
creet; she  thought  of  her  country,  and  her  kingdom,  and  of 
the  many  people  over  whom  she  was  to  rule. 

"He  is  a  clever  man,"  she  said  to  herself,  "and  that  is 
well,  and  he  dances  capitally,  and  that  is  well,  too;  but  has 
he  well-grounded  knowledge?  That  is  just  as  important, 
and  he  must  be  examined." 

And  she  immediately  put  such  a  difificult  question  to  him, 
that  she  could  not  have  answered  it  herself;  and  the  Shadow 
made  a  wry  face. 

"You  cannot  answer  me  that,"  said  the  Princess. 

"I  learned  that  in  my  childhood,"  replied  the  Shadow, 


874  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"and  I  believe  my  very  shadow,  standing  yonder  by  the 
door,  could  answer  it." 

"Your  shadow!''  cried  the  Princess;  "that  would  be  very 
remarkable." 

"I  do  not  assert  as  quite  certain  that  he  can  do  so,"  said 
the  Shadow,  "but  I  am  almost  inclined  to  believe  it.  But 
your  Royal  Highness  will  allow  me  to  remind  you  that  he  is 
so  proud  of  passing  for  a  man,  that,  if  he  is  in  a  good  humor, 
and  he  should  be  able  to  answer  rightly,  he  must  be  treated 
just  like  a  man." 

"I  like  that,"  said  the  Princess. 

And  now  she  went  to  the  learned  man  at  the  door;  and 
she  spoke  with  him  of  sun  and  moon,  of  the  green  forests, 
and  of  people  near  and  far  ofif;  and  the  learned  man  ans- 
wered very  cleverly  and  very  well. 

"What  a  man  that  must  be,  who  has  such  a  clever  shad- 
ow!" she  thought.  "It  would  be  a  real  blessing  for  my 
country  and  for  my  people  if  I  chose  him;  and  I'll  do  it!" 

And  they  soon  struck  a  bargain — the  Princess  and  the 
Shadow;  but  no  one  was  to  know  anything  of  it  till  she  had 
returned  to  her  kingdom. 

"No  one — not  even  my  shadow,''  said  the  Shadow;  and 
for  this  he  had  especial  reasons. 

And  they  came  to  the  country  where  the  Princess  ruled, 
and  where  was  her  home. 

"Listen,  my  friend,"  said  the  Shadow  to  the  learned  man. 
"Now  I  am  as  lucky  and  powerful  as  anyone  can  become. 
I'll  do  something  particular  for  you.  You  shall  live  with  me 
in  my  palace,  drive  with  me  in  the  royal  carriage,  and  have  a 
hundred  thousand  dollars  a  year;  but  you  must  let  yourself 
be  called  a  shadow  by  everyone,  and  may  never  say  that  you 
were  once  a  man;  and  once  a  year,  when  I  sit  on  the  bal- 
cony and  show  myself,  you  must  lie  at  my  feet  as  it  be- 
comes my  shadow  to  do.  For  I  tell  you  I'm  going  to 
marry  the  Princess,  and  this  evening  the  wedding  will  be 
held." 

"Now,  that's  too  strong!"  said  the  learned  man.  "I  won't 
do  it;  I  won't  have  it.  That  would  be  cheating  the  whole 
country  and  the  Princess  too.  I'll  tell  everything — that  I'm 
the  man  and  you  are  the  Shadow,  and  that  you  only  wear 
men's  clothes." 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  375 

"No  one  would  believe  that,"  said  the  Shadow.  "Be  rea- 
sonable, or  I'll  call  the  watch." 

"I'll  go  straight  to  the  Princess,"  said  the  learned  man. 

"But  I'll  go  lirst,"  said  the  Shadow;  "and  you  shall  go  to 
prison." 

And  that  was  so;  for  the  sentinels  obeyed  him  of  whom 
they  knew  that  he  was  to  marry  the  Princess. 

"You  tremble,"  said  the  Princess,  when  the  Shadow  came 
to  her.  "Has  anything  happened?  You  must  not  be  ill  to- 
day, when  we  are  to  have  a  wedding." 

"I  have  experienced  the  most  terrible  thing  that  can  hap- 
pen," said  the  Shadow.  "Only  think! — such  a  poor  shallow 
brain  cannot  bear  much — only  think! — my  shadow  has  gone 
mad;  he  fancies  he  has  become  a  man,  and — only  think! — 
that  I  am  his  shadow." 

"This  is  terrible!"  said  the  Princess.  "He's  locked  up,  I 
hope?" 

"Certainly.     I'm  afraid  he  will  never  recover." 

"Poor  shadow!"  cried  the  Princess,  "he's  very  unfortu- 
nate. It  would  really  be  a  good  action  to  deliver  him  from 
his  little  bit  of  life.  And  when  I  think  how  prone  the  peo- 
ple are,  nowadays,  to  take  the  part  of  the  low  against  the 
high,  it  seems  to  me  quite  necessary  to  put  him  quietly  out 
of  the  way." 

"That's  certainly  very  hard,  for  he  was  a  faithful  servant," 
said  the  Shadow;  and  he  pretended  to  sigh. 

"You're  a  noble  character,"  said  the  Princess,  and  she 
bowed  before  him. 

In  the  evening  the  whole  town  was  illuminated,  and  can- 
non were  fired — bang! — and  the  soldiers  presented  arms. 
That  was  a  wedding!  The  Princess  and  the  Shadow  stepped 
out  on  the  balcony  to  show  themselves  and  receive  another 
cheer. 

The  learned  man  heard  nothing  of  all  this  festivity,  for  he 
had  already  been  executed. 


376  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 


THE  ANGEL. 


Whenever  a  good  child  dies,  an  angel  from  heaven  comes 
down  to  earth,  and  takes  the  dead  child  in  his  arms,  spreads 
out  his  great  white  wings,  and  flies  away  over  all  the  places 
the  child  has  loved,  and  picks  quite  a  hand-full  of  flowers, 
which  he  carries  up  to  the  Almighty,  that  they  may  bloom 
in  heaven  more  brightly  than  on  earth.  And  the  Father 
presses  all  the  flowers  to  His  heart;  but  He  kisses  the  flower 
that  pleases  Him  best,  and  the  flower  is  then  endowed  with 
a  voice,  and  can  join  in  the  great  chorus  of  praise! 

"See" — this  is  what  an  angel  said,  as  he  carried  a  dead 
child  up  to  heaven,  and  the  child  heard,  as  if  in  a  dream,  and 
they  went  on  over  the  regions  of  home  where  the  little  child 
had  played,  and  they  came  through  gardens  with  beautiful 
flowers — "which  of  these  shall  we  take  with  us  to  plant  in 
heaven?"  asked  the  angel. 

Now  there  stood  near  them  a  slender,  beautiful  rose  bush; 
but  a  wicked  hand  had  broken  the  stem,  so  that  all  the 
branches,  covered  with  half-opened  buds,  were  hanging 
drooping  around,  quite  withered. 

"The  poor  rose  bush!"  said  the  child.  "Take  it,  that  it 
may  bloom  up  yonder." 

And  the  angel  took  it,  and  kissed  the  child,  and  the  little 
one  half  opened  his  eyes.  They  plucked  some  of  the  rich 
flowers,  but  also  took  with  them  the  despised  buttercup  and 
the  wild  pansy. 

"Now  we  have  flowers,"  said  the  child. 

And  the  angel  nodded,  but  he  did  not  yet  fly  upward  to 
heaven.  It  was  night  and  quite  silent.  They  remained  in 
the  great  city;  they  floated  about  there  in  a  small  street, 
where  lay  whole  heaps  of  straw,  ashes,  and  sweepings,  for  it 
had  been  removal-day.  There  lay  fragments  of  plates,  bits 
of  plaster,  rags,  and  old  hats,  and  all  this  did  not  look  well. 
And  the  angel  pointed  amid  all  this  confusion  to  a  few 
fragments  of  a  flower-pot,  and  to  a  lump  of  earth  which  had 
fallen  out,  and  which  was  kept  together  by  the  roots  of  a 
great  dried  field  flower,  which  was  of  no  use,  and  had  there- 
fore been  thrown  out  into  the  street. 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  377 

"We  will  take  that  with  us,"  said  the  angel.  "I  will  tell 
you  why,  as  we  fly  onward." 

"Down  yonder  in  the  narrow  lane,  in  the  low  cellar,  lived 
a  poor  sick  boy;  from  his  childhood  he  had  been  bedridden. 
When  he  was  at  his  best  he  could  go  up  and  down  the  room 
a  few  times,  leaning  on  crutches;  that  was  the  utmost  he 
could  do.  For  a  few  days  in  summer  the  sunbeams  would 
penetrate  for  a  few  hours  to  the  ground  of  the  cellar,  and 
when  the  poor  boy  sat  there  and  the  sun  shone  on  him,  and 
he  looked  at  the  red  blood  in  his  three  fingers,  as  he  held 
them  up  before  his  face,  he  would  say,  'Yes,  to-day  he  has 
been  out.'  He  knew  the  forest  with  its  beautiful  vernal 
green  only  from  the  fact  that  the  neighbor's  son  brought  him 
the  first  green  branch  of  a  beech  tree,  and  he  held  that  up 
over  his  head,  and  dreamed  he  was  in  the  beech  wood  where 
the  sun  shone  and  the  birds  sang.  On  a  spring  day  the 
neighbor's  boy  also  brought  him  field  flowers,  and  among 
these  was,  by  chance,  one  to  which  the  root  was  hanging; 
and  so  it  was  planted  in  a  flower-pot,  and  placed  by  the  bed, 
close  to  the  window.  And  the  flower  had  been  planted  by  a 
fortunate  hand ;  and  it  grew,  threw  out  new  shoots,  and  bore 
flowers  every  year.  It  became  as  a  splendid  flower  garden  to 
the  sickly  boy — his  little  treasure  here  on  earth.  He  watered 
it,  and  tended  it,  and  took  care  that  it  had  the  benefit  of  every 
ray  of  sunlight,  down  to  the  last  that  struggled  in  through 
the  narrow  window;  and  the  flower  itself  was  woven  into  his 
dreams,  for  it  grew  for  him  and  gladdened  his  eyes,  and 
spread  its  fragrance  about  him;  and  toward  it  he  turned  in 
death  when  the  Father  called  him.  He  has  now  been  with 
the  Almighty  for  a  year;  for  a  year  the  flower  has  stood 
forgotten  in  the  window,  and  is  withered;  and  thus,  at  the 
removal,  it  has  been  thrown  out  into  the  dust  of  the  street. 
And  this  is  the  flower,  the  poor  withered  flower,  which  we 
have  taken  into  our  nosegay;  for  this  flower  has  given  more 
joy  than  the  richest  flower  in  a  Queen's  garden." 

"But  how  do  you  know  all  this?"  asked  the  child  which 
the  angel  was  carrying  to  heaven. 

"I  know  it,"  said  the  angel,  "for  I  myself  was  that  little 
boy  who  walked  on  crutches!     I  know  my  flower  well!" 

And  the  child  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  into  the  glori- 
ous, happy  face  of  the  angel;  and  at  the  same  moment'they 
entered  the  regions  where  there  is  peace  and  joy.     And  the 


378  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

Father  pressed  the  dead  child  to  His  bosom,  and  then  it  re- 
ceived wings  like  the  angel,  and  flew  hand  in  hand  with  him. 
And  the  Almighty  pressed  all  the  flowers  to  His  heart;  but 
He  kissed  the  dry  withered  field  flower,  and  it  received  a 
voice  and  sang  with  all  the  angels  hovering  around — some 
near,  and  some  in  wider  circles,  and  some  in  infinite  distance, 
but  all  equally  happy.  And  they  all  sang,  little  and  great, 
the  good,  happy  child,  and  the  poor  field  flower  that  had 
lain  there  withered,  thrown  among  the  dust,  in  the  rubbish 
of  the  removal-day,  in  the  narrow  dark  lane. 


TWELVE  BY  THE  MAIL 

It  was  bitterly  cold!  the  sky  gleamed  with  stars,  and  not  a 
breeze  was  stirring. 

Bump!  an  old  pot  was  thrown  at  the  neighbor's  house 
door.  Bang!  bang  went  the  gun,  for  they  were  welcoming 
the  New  Year.  It  was  New  Year's  Eve !  The  church  clock 
was  striking  twelve. 

Tan-ta-ra-ra !  the  mail  came  lumbering  up.  The  great 
carriage  stopped  at  the  gate  of  the  town.  There  were  twelve 
persons  in  it;  all  the  places  were  taken. 

"Hurrah!  hurrah!"  sang  the  people  in  the  houses  of  the 
town,  for  the  New  Year  was  being  welcomed,  and  as  the 
clock  struck  they  stood  up  with  the  filled  glass  in  their  hand, 
to  drink  success  to  the  new  comer. 

"Happy  New  Year!"  was  the  cry.  "A  pretty  wife,  plenty 
of  money,  and  no  sorrow  or  care!" 

This  wish  was  passed  round,  and  then  glasses  were 
clashed  together  till  they  rang  again,  and  in  front  of  the 
town  gate  the  post-carriage  stopped  with  the  strange  guests, 
the  twelve  travelers. 

And  who  were  these  strangers?  Each  of  them  had  his 
passport  and  his  luggage  with  him ;  they  even  brought  pres- 
ents for  me  and  for  you,  and  for  all  the  people  of  the  little 
town.  Who  are  they?  What  did  they  want?  and  what  did 
they  bring  with  them? 

"Good-morning!"  they  cried  to  the  sentry  at  the  .town 
gate. 

"Good-morning!"  replied  the  sentry,  for  the  clock  struck 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY   TALES.  379 

twelve.  "Your  name  and  profession?"  the  sentry  inquired 
of  the  one  who  alighted  first  from  the  carriage. 

"See  yourself,  in  the  passport,"  replied  the  man.  "I  am 
myself!"  And  a  capital  fellow  he  looked,  arrayed  in  a  bear 
skin  and  fur  boots.  "I  am  the  man  on  whom  many  persons 
fix  their  hopes.  Come  to  me  to-morrow,  and  I'll  give  you  a 
New  Year's  present.  I  throw  pence  and  dollars  among  the 
people,  I  even  give  balls,  thirty-one  balls;  but  I  cannot  de- 
vote more  than  thirty-one  nights  to  this.  My  ships  are  frozen 
in,  but  in  my  office  it  is  warm  and  comfortable.  I'm  a  mer- 
chant. My  name  is  January,  and  I  only  carry  accounts 
with  me." 

Now  the  second  alighted.  He  was  a  merry  companion; 
he  was  a  theater  director,  manager  of  masque  balls,  and  all 
the  amusements  one  can  imagine.  His  luggage  consisted  of 
a  great  tub. 

"We'll  dance  the  cat  out  of  the  tub  at  carnival  time,"  said 
he.  "I'll  prepare  a  merry  tune  for  you  and  for  myself,  too.  I 
have  not  a  very  long  time  to  live — the  shortest,  in  fact,  of 
my  whole  family,  for  I  only  become  twenty-eight  days  old. 
Sometimes  they  pop  me  in  an  extra  day,  but  I  trouble  my- 
self very  little  about  that.     Hurrah !" 

"You  must  not  shout  so !"  said  the  sentry. 

"Certainly,  I  may  shout !"  retorted  the  man.  "I'm  Prince 
Carnival,  traveling  under  the  name  of  February." 

The  third  now  got  out.  He  looked  like  Fasting  itself,  but 
carried  his  nose  very  high,  for  he  was  related  to  the  "Forty 
Knights,"  and  was  a  weather  prophet.  But  that's  not  a  pro- 
fitable office,  and  that's  why  he  praised  fasting.  In  his 
buttonhole  he  had  a  little  bunch  of  violets,  but  they  were 
very  small. 

"March !  March !"  the  fourth  called  after  him,  and  slapped 
him  on  the  shoulder.  "Do  you  smell  nothing?  Go  quickly 
into  the  guard  room;  there  they're  drinking  punch,  your 
favorite  drink!  I  can  smell  it  already  out  here.  Forward, 
Master  March!" 

But  it  was  not  true;  the  speaker  only  wanted  to  let  him 
feel  the  influence  of  his  own  name,  and  make  an  April  fool  of 
him;  for  with  that  the  fourth  began  his  career  in  the  town. 
He  looked  very  jovial,  did  little  work,  but  had  the  more  holi- 
days. 

"If  it  were  only  a  little  more  steady  in  the  world!"  said 


S80  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

he;  "but  sometimes  one  is  in  a  good  humor,  sometimes  in  a 
bad  one,  according  to  circumstances;  now  rain,  now  sun- 
shine. I  am  a  kind  of  house  and  ofhce-letting  agent,  also  a 
manager  of  funerals.  I  can  laugh  or  cry,  according  to  cir- 
cumstances. Here  in  this  box  I  have  my  summer  wardrobe, 
but  it  would  be  very  foolish  to  put  it  on.  Here  I  am  now ! 
On  Sundays  I  go  out  walking  in  shoes  and  silk  stockings, 
and  with  a  muff!" 

After  him  a  lady  came  out  of  the  carriage.  She  called 
herself  Miss  May.  She  wore  a  summer  costume  and  over- 
shoes, a  light  green  dress,  and  anemones  in  her  hair,  and  she 
was  so  scented  with  wild  thyme  that  the  sentry  had  to 
sneeze. 

"God  bless  you!  God  bless  you!"  she  said,  and  that  was 
her  salutation. 

How  pretty  she  was!  and  she  was  a  singer,  not  a  theater 
singer  nor  a  ballad  singer,  but  a  singer  of  the  woods,  as  she 
roamed  through  the  gay  green  forest,  and  sang  there  for  her 
own  amusement. 

"Now  comes  the  young  dame!"  said  those  who  were  still 
in  the  carriage. 

And  the  young  dame  stepped  out,  delicate,  proud,  and 
pretty.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  she  was  Mistress  June,  ac- 
customed to  be  served  by  drowsy  marmots.  She  gave  a 
great  feast  on  the  longest  day  of  the  year,  that  the  guests 
might  have  time  to  partake  of  the  many  dishes  at  her  table. 
She,  indeed,  kept  her  own  carriage;  but  still  she  traveled  in 
the  mail  with  the  rest,  because  she  wanted  to  show  that  she 
was  not  high-minded.  But  she  was  not  without  protection; 
her  elder  brother  July  was  with  her. 

He  was  a  plump  young  fellow,  clad  in  summer  garments, 
with  a  Panama  hat.  He  had  but  little  baggage  with  him, 
because  it  was  cumbersome  in  the  great  heat;  therefore  he 
had  only  provided  himself  with  swimming  trousers,  and 
those  are  not  much. 

Then  came  the  mother  herself,  Madam  August,  whole- 
sale dealer  in  fruit,  proprietress  of  a  large  number  of  fish- 
ponds, and  land  cultivator,  in  a  great  crinoline ;  she  was  fat 
and  hot,  could  use  her  hands  well,  and  would  herself  carry 
out  beer  to  the  workmen  in  the  fields. 

"In  the  sweat  of  thy  face  shalt  thou  eat  bread,"  she  said; 
"that  is  written  in  the  Book.     Afterward  come  the  excur- 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY    TALES.  381 

sions,  dance  and  playing  in  the  greenwood,  and  the  harvest 
feasts  r 

She  was  a  thorough  housewife. 

After  her,  a  man  came  out  of  the  coach,  a  painter,  Mr. 
■Master-colorer  September,  The  forest  had  to  receive  him; 
the  leaves  were  to  change  their  colors,  but  how  beautifully! 
when  he  wished  it;  soon  the  wood  gleamed  with  red,  yellow, 
and  brown.  The  master  whistled  like  the  black  magpie, 
was  a  quick  workman,  and  wound  the  brown-green  hop 
plants  round  his  beer-jug.  That  was  an  ornament  for  the 
jug,  and  he  had  a  good  idea  of  ornament.  There  he  stood 
with  his  color-pot,  and  that  was  his  whole  luggage. 

A  landed  proprietor  followed  him,  one  who  cared  for  the 
plowing  and  preparing  of  the  land,  and  also  for  field  sports. 
Squire  October  brought  his  dog  and  his  gun  with  him,  and 
had  nuts  in  his  game-bag.  "Crack!  crack!"  He  had 
much  baggage,  even  an  English  plow;  and  he  spoke  of  farm- 
ing, but  one  could  scarcely  hear  what  he  said,  for  the  cough- 
ing and  gasping  of  his  neighbor. 

It  was  November  who  coughed  so  violently  as  he  got  out. 
He  was  very  much  plagued  by  a  cold;  he  was  continually 
having  recourse  to  his  pocket-handkerchief,  and  yet,  he  said, 
he  was  obliged  to  accompany  the  servant-girls,  and  initiate 
them  into  their  new  winter  service.  He  said  he  should  get 
rid  of  his  cold  when  he  went  out  wood-cutting,  and  had  to 
saw  and  split  wood,  for  he  was  sawyer-master  to  the  fire- 
wood guild.  He  spent  his  evenings  cutting  the  wooden 
soles  for  skates,  for  he  knew,  he  said,  that  in  a  few  weeks 
there  would  be  occasion  to  use  these  amusing  shoes. 

At  length  appeared  the  last  passenger,  old  Mother  De- 
cember, with  her  fire-stool.  The  old  lady  was  cold,  but  her 
eyes  glistened  like  two  bright  stars.  She  carried  on  her  arm 
a  flower-pot,  in  which  a  little  fir  tree  was  growing. 

"This  tree  I  will  guard  and  cherish,  that  it  may  grow  large 
by  Christmas  Eve,  and  may  reach  from  the  ground  to  the 
ceiling,  and  may  rear  itself  upward  with  flaming  candles, 
golden  apples,  and  little  carved  figures.  The  fire-stool 
warms  like  a  stove.  I  bring  the  story  book  out  of  my  pocket 
and  read  aloud,  so  that  all  the  children  in  the  room  become 
quite  quiet;  but  the  little  figures  on  the  trees  become  lively, 
and  the  little  waxen  angel  on  the  top  spreads  out  his  wings 
of  gold  leaf,  flies  down  from  his  green    perch,  and  kisses 


382  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

great  and  small  in  the  room,  yes,  even  the  poor  children  who 
stand  out  in  the  passage  and  in  the  street,  singing  the  carol 
about  the  Star  of  Bethlehem." 

"Well,  now  the  coach  may  drive  away,"  said  the  sentry; 
"we  have  the  whole  twelve.     Let  the  chaise  drive  up." 

"First  let  all  the  twelve  come  in  to  me,"  said  the  captain 
on  duty,  "one  after  the  other.  The  passports  I  will  keep 
here.  Each  of  them  is  available  for  a  month ;  when  that  has 
passed,  I  shall  write  their  behavior  on  each  passport.  Mr. 
January,  have  the  goodness  to  come  here." 

And  Mr.  January  stepped  forward. 

"When  a  year  is  passed  I  think  I  shall  be  able  to  tell  you 
what  the  twelve  have  brought  to  me,  and  to  you,  and  to  all 
of  us.  Now  I  do  not  know  it,  and  they  don't  know  it  them- 
selves, probably,  for  we  live  in  strange  times." 


WHAT  THE  MOON  SAW. 

INTRODUCTION. 

It  is  a  strange  thing,  that  when  I  feel  most  fervently  and 
most  deeply,  my  hands  and  my  tongue  seem  alike  tired,  so 
that  I  cannot  rightly  describe  or  accurately  portray  the 
thoughts  that  are  rising  within  me;  and  yet  I  am  a  painter; 
my  eye  tells  me  as  much  as  that,  and  all  my  friends  who 
have  seen  my  sketches  and  fancies  say  the  same. 

I  am  a  poor  lad,  and  live  in  one  of  the  narrowest  of  lanes; 
but  I  do  not  want  for  light,  as  my  room  is  high  up  in  the 
house,  with  an  extensive  prospect  over  the  neighboring 
roofs.  During  the  first  few  days  I  went  to  live  in  the  town, 
I  felt  low  spirited  and  solitary  enough.  Instead  of  the  forest 
and  the  green  hills  of  former  days,  I  had  here  only  a  forest 
of  chimney-pots  to  look  out  upon.  And  then  I  had  not  a 
single  friend;  not  one  familiar  face  greeted  me. 

So  one  evening  I  sat  at  the  window,  in  a  desponding 
mood ;  and  presently  I  opened  the  casement  and  looked  out. 
Oh,  how  my  heart  leaped  up  with  joy!  Here  was  a  well- 
known  face  at  last — a  round,  friendly  countenance,  the  face 
of  a  good  friend  I  had  known  at  home.  In  fact,  it  was  the 
Moon  that  looked  in  upon  me.     He  was  quite  unchanged, 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  383 

the  dear  old  Moon,  and  had  the  same  face  exactly  that  he 
used  to  show  when  he  peered  down  upon  me  through  the 
willow  trees  on  the  moor.  I  kissed  my  hand  to  him  over 
and  over  again,  as  he  shone  far  into  my  little  room;  and  he, 
for  his  part,  promised  me  that  every  evening,  when  he  came 
abroad,  he  would  look  in  upon  me  for  a  few  moments.  This 
promise  he  has  faithfully  kept.  It  is  a  pity  that  he  can  only 
stay  such  a  short  time  when  he  comes.  Whenever  he  ap- 
pears, he  tells  me  of  one  thing  or  another  that  he  has  seen 
on  the  previous  night  or  on  that  same  evening. 

"Just  paint  the  scenes  I  describe  to  you" — that  is  what 
he  said  to  me — "and  you  will  have  a  very  pretty  picture- 
book." 

I  have  followed  his  injunction  for  many  evenings.  I  could 
make  up  a  new  "Thousand  and  One  Nights"  in  my  own  way 
out  of  these  pictures,  but  the  number  might  be  too  great, 
after  all.  The  pictures  I  have  here  given  have  not  been 
chosen  at  random,  but  follow  in  their  proper  order,  just  as 
they  were  described  to  me.  Some  great  gifted  painter,  or 
some  poet  or  musician,  may  make  something  more  of  them 
if  he  likes;  what  I  have  given  here  are  only  hasty  sketches, 
hurriedly  put  upon  the  paper,  with  some  of  my  own 
thoughts  interspersed;  for  the  Moon  did  not  come  to  me 
every  evening — a  cloud  sometimes  hid  his  face  from  me. 


FIRST  EVENING. 

"Last  night" — I  am  quoting  the  Moon's  own  words — 
"last  night  I  was  gliding  through  the  cloudless  Indian  sky. 
My  face  was  mirrored  in  the  waters  of  the  Ganges,  and  my 
beams  strove  to  pierce  through  the  thick  intertwining 
boughs  of  the  bananas,  arching  beneath  me  like  the  tortoise's 
shell.  Forth  from  the  thicket  tripped  a  Hindoo  maid,  light 
as  a  gazelle,  beautiful  as  Eve.  Airy  and  ethereal  as  a  vision, 
and  yet  sharply  defined  amid  the  surrounding  shadows, 
stood  this  daughter  of  Hindostan;  I  could  read  on  her  deli- 
cate brow  the  thought  that  had  brought  her  thither.  The 
thorny  creeping  plants  tore  her  sandals,  but  for  all  that  she 
came  rapidly  forward.  The  deer  that  had  come  down  to  the 
river  to  quench  her  thirst,  sprang  by  with  a  startled  bound, 
for  in  her  hand  the  maiden  bore  a  lighted  lamp.     I  could  see 


S84  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

the  blood  in  her  dehcate  finger-tips,  as  she  spread  them  for  a 
screen  before  the  dancing  flame.  She  came  down  to  the 
stream,  and  set  the  lamp  upon  the  water,  and  let  it  float 
away.  The  flame  flickered  to  and  fro,  and  seemed  ready  to| 
expire;  but  still  the  lamp  burned  on,  and  the  girl's  black 
sparkling  eyes,  half  veiled  behind  their  long  silken  lashes, 
followed  it  with  a  gaze  of  earnest  intensity.  She  well  knew 
that  if  the  lamp  continued  to  burn  so  long  as  she  could  keep 
it  in  sight,  her  betrothed  was  still  alive ;  but  if  the  lamp  was 
suddenly  extinguished,  he  was  dead.  And  the  lamp  burned 
bravely  on,  and  she  fell  on  her  knees  and  prayed.  Near  her 
in  the  grass  lay  a  speckled  snake,  but  she  heeded  it  not — she 
thought  only  of  Bramah  and  of  her  betrothed. 

"'He  lives!'  she  shouted  joyfully,  'he  lives!'     And  from 
the  mountains  the  echo  came  back  upon  her,  'He  lives!' " 


SECOND  EVENING. 

"Yesterday,"  said  the  Moon  to  me,  "I  looked  down  upon 
a  small  courtyard  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  houses.  In  the 
courtyard  sat  a  clucking  hen  with  eleven  chickens;  and  a 
pretty  little  girl  was  running  and  jumping  around  them. 
The  hen  was  frightened,  and  screamed,  and  spread  out  her 
wings  over  the  little  brood.  Then  the  girl's  father  came  out 
and  scolded  her;  and  I  glided  away  and  thought  no  more  of 
the  matter. 

"But  this  evening,  only  a  few  minutes  ago,  I  looked  down 
into  the  same  courtyard.  Everything  was  quiet.  But  pres- 
ently the  little  girl  came  forth  again,  crept  quietly  to  the  hen- 
house, pushed  back  the  bolt,  and  slipped  into  the  apartment 
of  the  hen  and  chickens.  They  cried  out  loudly,  and  came 
fluttering  down  from  their  perches,  and  ran  about  in  dismay, 
and  the  little  girl  ran  after  them.  I  saw  it  quite  plainly,  for 
I  looked  through  a  hole  in  the  hen-house  wall.  I  was  angry 
with  the  willful  child,  and  felt  glad  when  her  father  came  out 
and  scolded  her  more  violently  than  yesterday,  holding  her 
roughly  by  the  arm;  she  held  down  her  head,  and  her  blue 
eyes  were  full  of  large  tears.  'What  are  you  about  here?'  he 
asked.  She  wept  and  said,  'I  wanted  to  kiss  the  hen  and  beg 
her  pardon  for  frightening  her  yesterday;  but  I  was  afraid 
to  tell  vou.' 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  385 

"And  the  father  kissed  the  innocent  child's  forehead,  and  I 
kissed  her  on  the  mouth  and  eyes.'' 


THIRD  EVENING. 

"In  the  narrow  street  round  the  corner  yonder — it  is  so 
narrow  that  my  beams  can  only  glide  for  a  minute  along  the 
walls  of  the  house,  but  in  that  minute  I  see  enough  to  learn 
what  the  world  is  made  of — in  that  narrow  street  I  saw  a 
woman.  Sixteen  years  ago  that  woman  was  a  child,  playing 
in  the  garden  of  the  old  parsonage  in  the  country!  The 
hedges  of  rose  bushes  were  old,  and  the  flowers  were  faded. 
They  straggled  wild  over  the  paths,  and  the  ragged  branches 
grew  up  among  the  boughs  of  the  apple  trees;  here  and  there 
were  a  few  roses  still  in  bloom — not  so  fair  as  the  queen  of 
flowers  generally  appears,  but  still  they  had  color  and  scent, 
too.  The  clergyman's  little  daughter  appeared  to  me  a  far 
lovelier  rose,  as  she  sat  on  her  stool  under  the  straggling 
hedge,  hugging  and  caressing  her  doll  with  the  battered 
pasteboard  cheeks. 

"Ten  years  afterward  I  saw  her  again.  I  beheld  her  in  a 
splendid  ball-room ;  she  was  the  beautiful  bride  of  a  rich  mer- 
chant. I  rejoiced  at  her  happiness,  and  sought  her  on  calm, 
quiet  evenings — ah,  nobody  thinks  of  my  clear  eye  and  silent 
glance!  Alas!  my  rose  ran  wild,  like  the  rose  bushes  in  the 
garden  of  the  parsonage.  There  are  tragedies  in  everyday 
life,  and  to-night  I  saw  the  last  act  of  one. 

"She  was  lying  in  bed  in  a  house  in  that  narrow  street; 
she  was  sick  unto  death,  and  the  cruel  landlord  came  up,  and 
tore  away  the  thin  coverlet,  her  only  protection  against  the 
cold.  'Get  up!'  said  he,  'your  face  is  enough  to  frighten 
one.  Get  up  and  dress  yourself.  Give  me  money,  or  I'll 
turn  you  out  into  the  street!  Quick — get  up!'  She  ans- 
wered, 'Alas!  death  is  gnawing  at  my  heart.  Let  me  rest.' 
But  he  forced  her  to  get  up  and  bathe  her  face,  and  he  put  a 
wreath  of  roses  in  her  hair;  and  he  placed  her  in  a  chair  at 
the  window,  with  a  candle  burning  beside  her,  and  went 
away. 

"I  looked  at  her,  and  she  was  sitting  motionless,  with  her 
hands  in  her  lap.  The  wind  caught  the  open  window  and 
shut  it  with  a  crash,  so  that  a  pane  came  clattering  down  in 

25 


386  ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES. 

fragments;  but  still  she  never  moved.  The  curtain  caught 
fire,  and  the  flames  played  about  her  face;  and  then  I  saw 
that  she  was  dead.  There  at  the  window  sat  the  dead  woman, 
preaching  a  sermon  against  sin — my  poor  faded  rose  out  of 
the  parsonage  garden!" 


FOURTH  EVENING. 

"This  evening  I  saw  a  German  play  acted,''  said  the 
Moon.  "It  was  in  a  little  town.  A  stable  had  been  turned 
into  a  theater;  that  is  to  say,  the  stable  had  been  left  standing, 
and  had  been  turned  into  private  boxes,  and  all  the  timber 
work  had  been  covered  with  colored  paper.  A  little  iron 
chandelier  hung  beneath  the  ceiling,  and  that  it  might  be 
made  to  disappear  into  the  ceiling,  as  it  does  in  great  thea- 
ters, when  the  ting-ting  of  the  prompter's  bell  is  heard,  a 
great  inverted  tub  had  been  placed  just  above  it. 

"'Ting-ting!'  and  the  little  iron  chandelier  suddenly  rose 
at  least  half  a  yard  and  disappeared  in  the  tub ;  and  that  was 
the  sign  that  the  play  was  going  to  begin.  A  young  noble- 
man and  his  lady,  who  happened  to  be  passing  through  the 
little  town,  were  present  at  the  performance,  and  conse- 
quently the  house  was  crowded.  But  under  the  chandelier 
was  a  vacant  space  like  a  little  crater;  not  a  single  soul  sat 
there,  for  the  tallow  was  dropping,  drip,  drip !  I  saw  every- 
thing, for  it  was  so  warm  in  there  that  every  loophole  had 
been  opened.  The  male  and  female  servants  stood  outside, 
peeping  through  the  chinks,  although  a  real  policeman  was 
inside,  threatening  them  with  a  stick.  Close  by  the  orches- 
tra could  be  seen  the  noble  young  couple  in  two  old  arm- 
chairs, which  were  usually  occupied  by  his  worship,  the  may- 
or, and  his  lady;  but  these  latter  were  obliged  to-day  to  con- 
tent themselves  with  wooden  forms,  just  as  if  they  had  been 
ordinary  citizens;  and  the  lady  observed  quietly  to  herself, 
'One  sees,  now,  that  there  is  rank  above  rank;'  and  this  inci- 
dent gave  an  air  of  extra  festivity  to  the  whole  proceedings. 
The  chandelier  gave  little  leaps,  the  crowd  got  their  knuckles 
rapped,  and  I,  the  Moon,  was  present  at  the  performance 
from  beginning  to  end," 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  387 


FIFTH  EVENING. 

"Yesterday,"  began  the  Moon,  "I  looked  down  upon  the 
turmoil  of  Paris.  My  eye  penetrated  into  an  apartment  of 
the  Louvre.  An  old  grandmother,  poorly  clad — she  be- 
longed to  the  working  class — was  following  one  of  the  un- 
der-servants  into  the  great  empty  throne  room,  for  this  was 
the  apartment  she  wanted  to  see — that  she  was  resolved  to 
see;  it  had  cost  her  many  a  little  sacrifice  and  many  a  coax- 
ing word  to  penetrate  thus  far.  She  folded  her  thin  hands, 
and  looked  round  with  an  air  of  reverence,  as  if  she  had  been 
in  a  church. 

'"Here  it  was!'  she  said,  'here!'  And  she  approached 
the  throne,  from  which  hung  the  rich  velvet,  fringed  with 
gold  lace.  'There,'  she  exclaimed,  'there!'  and  she  knelt 
and  kissed  the  purple  carpet.  I  think  she  was  actually 
weeping. 

"  'But  it  was  not  this  very  velvet!'  observed  the  footman, 
and  a  smile  played  about  his  mouth. 

"  'True,  but  it  was  this  very  place,'  replied  the  woman, 
'and  it  must  have  looked  just  Hke  this.' 

"  'It  looked  so,  and  yet  it  did  not,'  observed  the  man;  'the 
windows  were  beaten  in,  and  the  doors  were  off  their  hinges, 
and  there  Vv^as  blood  upon  the  floor.' 

"  'But  for  all  that  you  can  say,  my  grandson  died  upon  the 
throne  of  France.  Died!'  mournfully  rejDeated  the  old 
woman. 

"I  do  not  think  another  word  was  spoken,  and  they  soon 
quitted  the  hall.  The  evening  twilight  faded,  and  my  light 
shone  vividly  upon  the  rich  velvet  that  covered  the  throne  of 
France. 

"Now,  who  do  you  think  this  poor  woman  was?  Listen, 
I  will  tell  you  a  story. 

"It  happened  in  the  Revolution  of  July,  on  the  evening  of 
the  most  brilliantly  victorious  day,  when  every  house  was  a 
fortress,  every  window  a  breastwork.  The  people  stormed 
the  Tuileries.  Even  women  and  children  were  found  among 
the  combatants.  They  penetrated  into  the  apartments  and 
halls  of  the  palace.  A  poor  half-grown  boy  in  a  ragged 
blouse  fought  among  the  older  insurgents.  Mortally  wound- 
ed with  several  bayonet  thrusts,  he  sank  down.    This  hap- 


388  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

pened  in  the  throne  room.  .They  laid  the  bleeding  youth 
upon  the  throne  of  France,  wrapped  the  velvet  round  his 
wounds,  and  his  blood  streamed  forth  on  the  imperial  pur- 
ple. There  was  a  picture! — the  splendid  hall,  the  fighting 
groups!  A  torn  flag  lay  upon  the  ground,  the  tricolor  was 
waving  above  the  bayonets,  and  on  the  throne  lay  the  poor 
lad  with  the  pale,  glorified  countenance,  his  eyes  turned 
toward  the  sky,  his  limbs  writhing  in  the  death  agony,  his 
breast  bare,  and  his  poor  tattered  clothing  half  hidden  by 
the  rich  velvet  embroidered  with  silver  lilies.  At  the  boy's 
cradle  a  prophecy  had  been  spoken:  'He  will  die  on  the 
throne  of  France!'  The  mother's  heart  had  fondly  imag- 
ined a  second  Napoleon. 

"'My  beams  have  kissed  the  wreath  of  immortelles  on  his 
grave,  and  this  night  they  kissed  the  forehead  of  the  old 
grandame,  while  in  a  dream  the  picture  floated  before  her 
which  thou  mayst  draw — the  poor  boy  on  the  throne  of 
France." 

SIXTH  EVENING, 

"I've  been  in  Upsala,"  said  the  Moon;  "I  looked  down 
upon  the  great  plain  covered  with  coarse  grass,  and  upon 
the  barren  fi.elds.  I  mirrored  my  face  in  the  Tyris  river, 
while  the  steamboat  drove  the  fish  into  the  rushes.  Be- 
neath me  floated  the  waves,  throwing  long  shadows  on  the 
so-called  graves  of  Odin,  Thor,  and  Friga.  In  the  scanty 
turf  that  covers  the  hillside,  names  have  been  cut.*  There 
is  no  monument  here,  no  memorial  on  which  the  traveler 
can  have  his  name  carved,  no  rocky  wall  on  whose  surface 
he  can  get  it  painted;  so  visitors  have  the  turf  cut  away  for 
that  purpose.  The  naked  earth  peers  through  in  the  form  of 
great  letters  and  names;  these  form  a  network  over  the 
whole  hill.  Here  is  an  immortality,  which  lasts  till  the  fresh 
turf  grows ! 

"Up  on  the  hill,  stood  a  man,  a  poet.  He  emptied  the 
mead  horn  with  the  broad  silver  rim,  and  murmured  a  name. 

^Travelers  on  the  Continent  have  frequent  opportunities  of 
seeing  how  universally  this  custom  prevails  among  travelers.  In 
some  places  on  the  Rhine,  pots  of  paint  and  brushes  are  offered 
by  the  natives  to  the  traveler  desirous  of  "immortallaing"  him- 
self. 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  389 

He  begged  the  winds  not  to  betray  him,  but  I  heard  the 
name.  I  knew  it.  A  count's  coronet  sparkles  above  it,  and 
therefore  he  did  not  speak  it  out.  I  smiled,  for  I  knew  that  a 
poet's  crown  adorned  his  own  name.  The  nobility  of 
Eleanora  d'Este  is  attached  to  the  name  of  Tasso.  And  I  also 
know  where  the  Rose  of  Beauty  blooms!" 

Thus  spake  the  Moon,  and  a  cloud  came  between  us. 
May  no  cloud  separate  the  poet  from  the  rose ! 


SEVENTH  EVENING. 

"Along  the  margin  of  the  shore  stretches  a  forest  of  firs 
and  beeches,  and  sweet,  fresh,  and  fragrant  is  this  wood; 
hundreds  of  nightingales  visit  it  every  spring.  Close  beside 
it  is  the  sea,  the  ever-changing  sea,  and  between  the  two  is 
placed  the  broad  high  road.  One  carriage  after  another 
rolls  over  it;  but  I  did  not  follow  them,  for  my  eyes  love  best 
to  rest  upon  one  point.  A  Hun's  Grave*  lies  there,  and  the 
sloe  and  blackthorn  grow  luxuriantly  among  the  stones. 
Here  is  true  poetry  in  nature. 

"And  how  do  you  think  men  appreciate  this  poetry?  I 
will  tell  you  what  I  heard  there  last  evening  and  during  the 
night. 

"First,  two  rich  landed  proprietors  came  driving  by. 
'Those  are  glorious  trees!'  said  the  first.  'Certainly;  there 
are  ten  loads  of  firewood  in  each,'  observed  the  other;  'it 
will  be  a  hard  winter,  and  last  year  we  got  fourteen  dollars  a 
load' — and  they  were  gone.  'The  road  here  is  wretched,' 
observed  another  man  who  drove  past.  'That's  the  fault  of 
those  horrible  trees,'  replied  his  neighbor;  'there  is  no  free 
current  of  air;  the  wind  can  only  come  from  the  sea' — and 
they  were  gone.  The  stage  coach  went  rattling  past.  All 
the  passengers  were  asleep  at  this  beautiful  spot.  The  pos- 
tilion blew  his  horn,  but  he  only  thought,  '1  can  play  capi- 
tally. It  sounds  well  here.  I  wonder  if  those  in  there  like 
it?' — and  the  stage  coach  vanished.  Then  two  young  fel- 
lows came  galloping  up  on  horseback.  There's  youth  and 
spirit  in  the  blood  here!    thought  I;    and,   indeed,  they 

*Large  mounds,  similar  to  the  "barrows"  found  in  Britain,  are 
thus  designated  in  Germany  and  the  North. 


390  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

looked  with  a  smile  at  the  moss-grown  hill  and  thick  forest, 
'I  should  not  dislike  a  walk  here  with  the  miller's  Christine,' 
said  one — and  they  flew  past.  The  flowers  scented  the  air; 
every  breath  was  hushed;  it  seem.ed  as  if  the  sea  was  a  part 
of  the  sky  that  stretched  above  the  deep  valley.  A  carriage 
rolled  by.  Six  people  were  sitting  in  it.  Four  of  them  were 
asleep ;  the  fifth  was  thinking  of  his  new  summer  coat,  which 
would  suit  him  admirably;  the  sixth  turned  to  the  coach- 
man and  asked  him  if  there  were  anything  remarkable  con- 
nected with  yonder  heap  of  stones.  'No,'  replied  the  coach- 
man, 'it  is  only  a  heap  of  stones;  but  the  trees  are  remark- 
able. 'How  so?'  'Why,  I'll  tell  you  how  they  are  very  re- 
markable. You  see,  in  winter,  when  the  snow  lies  very  deep, 
and  has  hidden  the  whole  road  so  that  nothing  is  to  be  seen, 
those  trees  serve  me  for  a  landmark.  I  steer  by  them,  so 
as  not  to  drive  into  the  sea;  and,  you  see,  that  is  why  the 
trees  are  remarkable.' 

"Now  came  a  painter.  He  spoke  not  a  word,  but  his  eyes 
sparkled.  He  began  to  whistle.  At  this  the  nightingales 
sang  louder  than  ever.  'Hold  your  tongues!'  he  cried, 
testily;  and  he  made  accurate  notes  of  all  the  colors  and 
transitions — blue,  and  lilac,  and  dark  brown.  'That  will 
make  a  beautiful  picture,'  he  said.  He  took  it  in  just  as  a 
mirror  takes  in  a  view;  and  as  he  Avorked  he  v/histled  a 
march  of  Rossini.  And  last  of  all  came  a  poor  girl.  She 
laid  aside  the  burden  she  carried  and  sat  down  to  rest  upon 
the  Hun's  Grave.  Her  pale,  handsome  face  was  bent  in  a 
listening  attitude  toward  the  forest.  Her  eyes  brightened, 
she  gazed  earnestly  at  the  sea  and  the  sky,  her  hands  were 
folded,  and  I  think  she  prayed,  'Our  Father.'  She  herself 
could  not  understand  the  feeling  that  swept  through  her, 
but  I  know  that  this  minute,  and  the  beautiful  natural  scene, 
will  live  within  her  memory  for  years,  far  more  vividly  and 
more  truly  than  the  painter  could  portray  it  with  his  colors 
on  paper.  My  rays  followed  her  till  the  morning  dawn 
kissed  her  brow." 

EIGHTH  EVENING. 

Heavy  clouds  obscured  the  sky,  and  the  Moon  did  not 
make  his  appearance  at  all.  I  stood  in  my  little  room,  more 
lonely  than  ever,  and  looked  up  at  the  sky  where  he  ought 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  391 

to  have  shown  himself.  My  thoughts  flew  far  away,  up  to 
my  great  friend,  who  every  evening  told  me  such  pretty 
tales,  and  showed  me  pictures.  Yes,  he  has  had  an  expe- 
rience indeed.  He  glided  over  the  waters  of  the  Deluge, 
and  smiled  on  Noah's  ark  just  as  he  lately  glanced  down 
upon  me,  and  brought  comfort  and  promise  of  a  new  world 
that  was  to  spring  forth  from  the  old.  When  the  Children 
of  Israel  sat  weeping  by  the  waters  of  Babylon,  he  glanced 
mournfully  upon  the  willows  where  hung  the  silent  harps. 
When  Romeo  climbed  the  balcony,  and  the  promise  of  true 
love  fluttered  like  a  cherub  toward  heaven,  the  round  Moon 
hung,  half  hidden  among  the  dark  cypresses,  in  the  lucid 
air.  Re  saw  the  captive  giant  at  St.  Helena,  looking  from 
the  lonely  rock  across  the  wide  ocean,  while  great  thoughts 
swept  through  his  soul.  Ah!  what  tales  the  Moon  can  tell. 
Human  life  is  like  a  story  to  him.  To-night  I  shall  not  see 
thee  again,  old  friend.  To-night  I  can  draw  no  picture  of 
the  memories  of  thy  visit.  And,  as  I  looked  dreamily  to- 
ward the  clouds,  the  sky  became  bright.  There  was  a  glanc- 
ing light,  and  a  beam  from  the  Moon  fell  upon  me.  It  van- 
ished again,  and  dark  clouds  flew  past;  but  still  it  was  a 
greeting,  a  friendly  good-night  offered  to  me  by  the  Moon. 


NINTH  EVENING. 

rrhe  air  was  clear  again.  Several  evenings  had  passed, 
and  the  Moon  was  in  the  first  quarter.  Again  he  gave  me 
an  outline  for  a  sketch.    Listen  to  what  he  told  me. 

"I  have  followed  the  polar  bird  and  the  swimming  whale 
to  the  eastern  coast  of  Greenland.  Gaunt  ice-covered  rocks 
and  dark  clouds  hung  over  a  valley,  where  dwarf  willows 
and  barberry  bushes  stood  clothed  in  green.  The  blooming 
lychnis  exhaled  sweet  odors.  My  light  was  faint,  my  face 
pale  as  the  water  lily  that,  torn  from  its  stem,  had  been  drift- 
ing for  weeks  with  the  tide.  The  crown-shaped  Northern 
Light  burned  fiercely  in  the  sky.  Its  ring  was  broad,  and 
from  its  circumference  the  rays  shot  like  whirling  shafts  of 
fire  across  the  whole  sky,  flashing  in  changing  radiance 
from  green  to  red.  The  inhabitants  of  that  icy  region  were 
assembling  for  dance  and  festivity;  but  accustomed  to  this 
glorious  spectacle,  they  scarcely  deigned  to  glance  at  it. 


392  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

'Let  us  leave  the  souls  of  the  dead  to  their  ball  play  with  the 
heads  of  the  walruses,'  they  thought  in  their  superstition, 
and  they  turned  their  whole  attention  to  the  song  and 
dance.  In  the  midst  of  the  circle,  and  divested  of  his  furry 
cloak,  stood  a  Greenlander,  with  a  small  pipe,  and  he  played 
and  sang  a  song  about  catching  the  seal,  and  the  chorus 
around  chimed  in  with  'Eia,  Eia,  Ah.'  And  in  their  white 
furs  they  danced  about  in  the  circle,  till  you  might  fancy 
it  was  a  polar  bear's  ball. 

"And  now  a  Court  of  Judgment  was  opened.  Those 
Greenlanders  who  had  quarreled  stepped  forward,  and  the 
offended  person  chanted  forth  the  faults  of  his  adversary 
in  an  extempore  song,  turning  them  sharply  into  ridicule, 
to  the  sound  of  the  pipe  and  the  measure  of  the  dance.  The 
defendant  replied  with  satire  as  keen,  while  the  audience 
laughed  and  gave  their  verdict. 

"The  rocks  heaved,  the  glaciers  melted,  and  great  masses 
of  ice  and  snov/  came  crashinsf  down,  shiverinsf  to  frag- 
ments  as  they  fell;  it  was  a  glorious  Greenland  summer 
night.  A  hundred  paces  away,  under  the  open  tent  of  hides, 
lay  a  sick  man.  Life  still  flowed  through  his  warm  blood, 
but  still  he  was  to  die;  he  him.self  felt  it,  and  all  who  stood 
round  him  knew  it  also;  therefore  his  wife  was  already 
sewing  round  him  the  shroud  of  furs,  that  she  might  not 
afterward  be  obliged  to  touch  the  dead  body.  And  she 
asked,  'Wilt  thou  be  buried  on  the  rock,  in  the  firm  snow? 
I  will  deck  the  spot  with  thy  kayak,  and  thy  arrows,  and  the 
angekokk  shall  dance  over  it.  Or  wouldst  thou  rather  be 
buried  in  the  sea?'  'In  the  sea,'  he  whispered,  and  nodded 
with  a  mournful  smile.  'Yes,  it  is  a  pleasant  summer  tent, 
the  sea,'  observed  the  wife.  'Thousands  of  seals  sport  there, 
the  walrus  shall  lie  at  thy  feet,  and  the  hunt  will  be  safe  and 
merry !'  And  the  yelling  children  tore  the-  outspread  hide 
from  the  window  hole,  that  the  dead  man  might  be  carried 
to  the  ocean,  the  billowy  ocean,  that  had  given  him  food  in 
life,  and  that  now,  in  death,  was  to  afford  him  a  place  of  rest. 
For  his  monument  he  had  the  floating,  ever-changing  ice- 
bergs, whereon  the  seal  sleeps,  while  the  stormbird  flies 
round  their  gleaming  summits." 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES.  393 


TENTH  EVENING. 

"I  knew  an  old  maid,"  said  the  Moon.  "Every  winter  she 
wore  a  wrapper  of  yellow  satin,  and  it  always  remained  new, 
and  was  the  only  fashion  she  followed.  In  summer  she  al- 
ways wore  the  same  straw  hat,  and  I  verily  believe  the  very 
same  gray-blue  dress. 

"She  never  went  out,  except  across  the  street  to  an  old 
female  friend;  and  in  later  years  she  did  not  even  take  this 
walk,  for  the  old  friend  was  dead.  In  her  solitude  my  old 
maid  was  always  busy  at  the  window,  which  was  adorned  in 
summer  with  pretty  flowers,  and  in  winter  with  cress,  grown 
upon  felt.  During  the  last  months  I  saw  her  no  more  at  the 
window,  but  she  was  still  alive.  I  knew  that,  for  I  had  not 
yet  seen  her  begin  the  'long  journey,'  of  which  she  often 
spoke  with  her  friend.  'Yes,  yes,'  she  was  in  the  habit  of 
saying,  'when  I  come  to  die,  I  shall  take  a  longer  journey 
than  I  have  made  my  whole  life  long.  Our  family  vault  is 
six  miles  from  here.  I  shall  be  carried  there,  and  shall  sleep 
there  among  my  family  and  relatives.'  Last  night  a  van 
stopped  at  the  house.  A  coffin  was  carried  out,  and  then  I 
knew  that  she  was  dead.  They  placed  straw  round  the 
cofhn,  and  the  van  drove  away.  There  slept  the  quiet  old 
lady,  who  had  not  gone  out  of  her  house  once  for  the  last 
year.  The  van  rolled  out  through  the  town  gate  as  briskly 
as  if  it  were  going  for  a  pleasant  excursion.  On  the  high 
road  the  pace  was  quicker  yet.  The  coachman  looked 
nervously  round  every  now  and  then — I  fancy  he  half  ex- 
pected to  see  her  sitting  on  the  coffin,  in  her  yellow  satin 
wrapper.  And  because  he  was  startled,  he  foolishly  lashed 
his  horses,  while  he  held  the  reins  so  tightly  that  the  poor 
beasts  were  in  a  foam;  they  were  young  and  fiery.  A  little 
hare  jumped  across  the  road  and  startled  them,  and  they 
fairly  ran  away.  The  old,  sober  maiden,  who  had  for  years 
and  years  moved  quietly  round  and  round  in  a  dull  circle, 
was  now,  in  death,  rattled  over  stock  and  stone  on  the  public 
highway.  The  coffin,  in  its  covering  of  straw,  tumbled  out 
of  the  van,  and  was  left  on  the  high  road,  while  horses, 
coachman,  and  carriage  flew  past  in  wild  career.  The  lark 
rose  up  caroling  from  the  field,  twittering  her  morning  lay 
over  the  coffin,  and  presently  perched  upon  it,  picking  with 


394  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

her  beak  at  the  straw  covering,  as  though  she  would  tear  it 
up.  The  lark  rose  up  again,  singing  gayly,  and  I  withdrew 
behind  the  red  morning  clouds." 


ELEVENTH  EVENING. 

"I  will  give  you  a  picture  of  Pompeii,"  said  the  Moon.  "I 
was  in  the  suburb  in  the  Street  of  Tombs,  as  they  call  it, 
where  the  fair  monuments  stand,  in  the  spot  where,  ages 
ago,  the  merry  youths,  their  temples  bound  with  rosy 
wreathes,  danced  with  the  fair  sisters  of  La'is.  Now  the 
stillness  of  death  reigned  around.  German  mercenaries,  in 
the  Neapolitan  service,  kept  guard,  and  played  cards  and 
dice;  and  a  troop  of  strangers  from  beyond  the  mountains 
came  into  the  towm,  accompanied  by  a  sentry.  They  wanted 
to  see  the  city  that  had  risen  from  the  grave  illumined  by  my 
beams;  and  I  showed  them  the  wheel  ruts  in  the  streets 
paved  with  broad  lava  slabs;  I  showed  them  the  names  on 
the  doors,  and  the  signs  that  hung  there  yet;  they  saw  in 
the  little  courtyard  the  basins  of  the  fountains,  ornamented 
with  shells;  bvit  no  jet  of  water  gushed  upward,  no  songs 
sounded  forth  from  the  richly  painted  chambers,  \vhere  the 
bronze  dog  kept  the  door. 

"It  was  the  City  of  the  Dead;  only  Vesuvius  thundered 
forth  his  everlasting  hymn,  each  separate  verse  of  which  is 
called  by  men  an  eruption.  We  went  to  the  temple  of 
Venus,  built  of  snow-white  marble,  with  its  high  altar  in 
front  of  the  broad  steps,  and  the  weeping  willows  sprouting 
freshly  forth  among  the  pillars.  The  air  was  transparent 
and  blue,  and  black  Vesuvius  formed  the  background,  with 
fire  ever  shooting  forth  from  it,  like  the  stem  of  the  pine 
tree.  Above  it  stretched  the  smoky  cloud  in  the  silence  of 
the  night,  like  the  crown  of  the  pine,  but  in  a  blood-red  il- 
lumination. Among  the  company  was  a  lady  singer,  a  real 
and  great  singer.  I  have  witnessed  the  homage  paid  to  her 
in  the  greatest  cities  of  Europe.  When  they  came  to  the 
tragic  theater,  they  all  sat  down  on  the  amphitheater  steps, 
and  thus  a  small  part  of  the  house  was  occupied  by  an  audi- 
ence, as  it  had  been  many  centuries  ago.  The  stage  still 
stood  unchanged,  and  its  walled  sidescenes,  and  the  two 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES,  395 

arches  in  the  background,  through  which  the  beholders  saw 
the  same  scene  that  had  been  exhibited  in  the  old  times — a 
scene  painted  by  Nature  herself,  namely,  the  mountains  be- 
tween Sorrento  and  Amalfi.  The  singer  gayly  mounted  the 
ancient  stage,  and  sang.  The  place  inspired  her,  and  she 
reminded  me  of  a  wild  Arab  horse,  that  rushes  headlong 
on  with  snorting  nostrils  and  flying  mane — her  song  was  so 
light  and  yet  so  firm.  Anon  I  thought  of  the  mourning 
mother  beneath  the  cross  at  Golgotha,  so  deep  was  the  ex- 
pression of  pain.  And,  just  as  it  had  done  thousands  of 
years  ago,  the  sound  of  applause  and  delight  now  filled  the 
theater.  'Happy,  gifted  creature!'  all  the  hearers  exclaimed. 
Five  minutes  more,  and  the  stage  was  empty,  the  company 
had  vanished,  and  not  a  sound  more  was  heard — all  were 
gone.  But  the  ruins  stood  unchanged,  as  they  will  stand 
when  centuries  shall  have  gone  by,  and  when  none  shall 
know  of  the  momentary  applause  and  of  the  triumph  of  the 
fair  songstress;  when  all  will  be  forgotten  and  gone,  and 
even  for  me  this  hour  will  be  but  a  dream  of  the  past." 


TWELFTH  EVENING. 

"I  looked  through  the  windows  of  an  editor's  house," 
said  the  Moon.  "It  was  somewhere  in  Germany.  I  saw 
handsome  furniture,  many  books,  and  a  chaos  of  newspa- 
pers. Several  young  men  were  present;  the  editor  himself 
stood  at  his  desk,  and  two  little  books,  both  by  young 
authors,  were  to  be  noticed.  'This  one  has  been  sent  to  me,' 
said  he.  'I  have  not  read  it  yet;  what  think  you  of  the  con- 
tents?' 'Oh,'  said  the  person  addressed — he  was  a  poet  him- 
self— 'it  is  good  enough;  a  little  broad,  certainly;  but,  you 
see  the  author  is  still  young.  The  verses  might  be  better,  to 
be  sure ;  the  thoughts  are  sound,  though  there  is  certainly  a 
good  deal  of  commonplace  among  them.  But  what  will  you 
have?  You  can't  be  always  getting  something  new.  That 
he'll  turn  out  anything  great  I  don't  believe,  but  you  may 
safely  praise  him.  He  is  well  read,  a  remarkable  Oriental 
scholar,  and  has  a  good  judgment.  It  was  he  v/ho  wrote 
that  nice  review  of  my  "Reflections  on  Domestic  Life."  We 
must  be  lenient  toward  the  young  man.' 


896  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

"'But  he  is  a  complete  hack!'  objected  another  of  the 
gentlemen.  'Nothing  is  worse  in  poetry  than  mediocrity, 
and  he  certainly  does  not  go  beyond  that.' 

"  'Poor  fellow!'  observed  a  third,  'and  his  aunt  is  so  happy 
about  him.  It  was  she,  Mr.  Editor,  who  got  together  so 
many  subscribers  for  your  last  translation.' 

"  'Ah,  the  good  woman !  Well,  I  have  noticed  the  book 
briefly.  Undoubted  talent — a  welcome  offering — a  flower 
in  the  garden  of  poetry — prettily  brought  out,  and  so  on. 
But  this  other  book — I  suppose  the  author  expects  me  to 
purchase  it?  I  hear  it  is  praised.  He  has  genius,  certainly; 
don't  you  think  so?' 

"  'Yes,  all  the  world  declares  as  much,'  replied  the  poet, 
'but  it  has  turned  out  rather  wildly.  The  punctuation  of  the 
book,  in  particular,  is  ver}^  eccentric' 

"  'It  will  be  good  for  him  if  we  pull  hinx  to  pieces,  and 
anger  him  a  little,  otherwise  he  will  get  too  good  an  opinion 
of  himself.' 

"  'But  that  would  be  unfair,'  objected  the  fourth.  'Let 
us  not  carp  at  little  faults,  but  rejoice  over  the  real  and  abun- 
dant good  that  we  find  here;  he  surpasses  all  the  rest.' 

"  'Not  so.  If  he  be  a  true  genius,  he  can  bear  the  sharp 
voice  of  censure.  There  are  people  enough  to  praise  him. 
Don't  let  us  quite  turn  his  head.' 

"  'Decided  talent,'  wrote  the  editor,  'with  the  usual  care- 
lessness. That  he  can  write  incorrect  verses  may  be  seen 
in  page  25,  where  there  are  two  false  quantities.  We  recom- 
mend him  to  study  the  ancients,'  etc. 

"I  went  away,"  continued  the  Moon,  "and  looked  through 
the  window  in  the  aunt's  house.  There  sat  the  bepraised 
poet,  the  tame  one ;  all  the  guests  paid  homage  to  him,  and 
he  was  happy. 

"I  sought  the  other  poet  out,  the  wild  one;  him  also  I 
found  in  a  great  assembly  at  his  patron's  where  the  tame 
poet's  book  was  being  discussed. 

"  'I  shall  read  yours  also,'  said  Maecenas ;  'but  to  speak 
honestly — you  know  I  never  hide  my  opinions  from  you — I 
don't  expect  much  from  it,  for  you  are  much  too  wild,  too 
fantastic.  But  it  must  assuredly  be  allowed  that,  as  a 
man,  you  are  highly  respectable.' 


ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES.  397 

'"A  young  girl  sat  in  a  corner;  and  she  read  in  a  book 
these  words: 

"  'In  tlie  dust  lies  genius  and  glory. 
But  ev'ry-day  talent  will  pay. 
It's  only  the  old,  old  story, 
But  the  piece  is  repeated  eacli  day.'  " 


THIRTEENTH  EVENING. 

The  Moon  said,  "Beside  the  woodland  path  there  are  two 
small  farm-houses.  The  doors  are  low,  and  some  of  the 
windows  are  placed  quite  high,  and  others  close  to  the 
ground;  and  whitethorn  and  barberry  bushes  grow  around 
them.  The  roof  of  each  house  is  overgrown  with  moss  and 
with  yellow  flowers  and  houseleek.  Cabbage  and  potatoes 
are  the  only  plants  cultivated  in  the  gardens,  but  out  of  the 
hedge  there  grows  a  willow  tree,  and  under  this  willow  tree 
sat  a  little  girl,  and  she  sat  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  old 
oak  tree  between  the  two  huts. 

"It  was  an  old  withered  stem.  It  had  been  sawn  o&  at  the 
top,  and  a  stork  had  built  his  nest  upon  it;  and  he  stood  in 
this  nest  clapping  with  his  beak.  A  little  boy  came  and 
stood  by  the  girl's  side;   they  were  brother  and  sister. 

"  'What  are  you  looking  at?'  he  asked. 

"  'I'm  watching  the  stork/  she  replied ;  'our  neighbor  told 
me  that  he  wovild  bring  us  a  little  brother  or  sister  to-day; 
let  us  watch  to  see  it  come!' 

"  'The  stork  brings  no  such  things,'  the  boy  declared,  'you 
may  be  sure  of  that.  Our  neighbor  told  me  the  same  thing, 
but  she  laughed  when  she  said  it,  and  so  I  asked  her  if  she 
could  say  "On  my  honor,''  and  she  could  not;  and  I  know- 
by  that  that  the  story  about  the  storks  is  not  true,  and  that 
they  only  tell  it  to  us  children  for  fun.' 

"  'But  where  do  the  babies  come  from,  then?'  asked  the 
girl. 

"  'Why,  an  angel  from  heaven  brings  them  under  his 
cloak,  but  no  man  can  see  him;  and  that's  why  we  never 
know  when  he  brings  them.' 

"At  that  moment  there  was  a  rustling  in  the  branches  of 
the  willow  tree,  and  the  children  folded  their  hands  and 
looked  at  one  another;   it  was  certainly  the  angel  coming' 


398  ANDERSEN'S    FAIRY    TALES. 

with  the  baby.  They  took  each  other's  hand,  and  at  that 
moment  the  door  of  one  of  the  houses  opened,  and  the 
neighbor  appeared. 

"  'Come  in,  you  two,'  she  said.  'See  what  the  stork  has 
brought.    It  is  a  httle  brother.' 

"And  the  children  nodded  gravely  at  one  another,  for  they 
had  felt  quite  sure  already  that  the  baby  was  come." 


FOURTEENTH  EVENING. 

"I  was  gliding  over  the  Liineburg  Heath,"  the  Moon 
said.  "A  lonely  hut  stood  by  the  wayside,  a  few  scanty 
bushes  grew  near  it,  and  a  nightingale  who  had  lost  his  way 
sang  sweetly.  He  died  in  the  coldness  of  the  night;  it  was 
his  farewell  song  that  I  heard. 

"The  morning  dawn  came  glimmering  red.  I  saw  a  cara- 
van of  emigrant  peasant  families  who  were  bound  to  Ham- 
burgh, there  to  take  ship  for  America,  where  fancied  pros- 
perity would  bloom  for  them.  The  mothers  carried  their 
little  children  at  their  backs,  the  elder  ones  trotted  by  their 
sides,  and  a  poor  starved  horse  tugged  at  a  cart  that  bore 
their  scanty  effects.  The  cold  wind  whistled,  and  therefore 
the  little  girl  nestled  closer  to  the  mother,  who,  looking  up 
at  my  decreasing  disk,  thought  of  the  bitter  want  at  home, 
and  spoke  of  the  heavy  taxes  they  had  not  been  able  to  raise. 
The  whole  caravan  thought  of  the  same  thing;  therefore  the 
rising  dawn  seemed  to  them  a  message  from  the  sun,  of 
fortune  that  was  to  gleam  brightly  upon  them.  They  heard 
the  dying  nightingale  sing;  it  was  no  false  prophet,  but  a 
harbinger  of  fortune.  The  wind  whistled,  therefore  they 
did  not  understand  that  the  nightingale  sang,  'Far  away 
over  the  sea!  Thou  hast  paid  the  long  passage  with  all  that 
was  thine,  and  poor  and  helpless  shalt  thou  enter  Canaan. 
Thou  must  sell  thyself,  thy  wife,  and  th}^  children.  But 
your  griefs  shall  not  last  long.  Behind  the  broad  fragrant 
leaves  lurks  the  Goddess  of  Death,  and  her  welcome  kiss 
shall  breathe  fever  into  thy  blood.  Fare  away,  fare  away, 
over  the  heaving  billows.'  And  the  caravan  listened  well 
pleased  to  the  song  of  the  nightingale,  which  seemed  to 
promise  good  fortune.  The  day  broke  through  the  light 
clouds;  country  people  went  across  the  heath  to  the  church; 


ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY-TALES.  399 

the  black-gowned  women  with  their  white  head-dresses 
looked  like  ghosts  that  had  stepped  forth  from  the  church 
pictures.  All  around  lay  a  wide  dead  plain,  covered  with 
faded  brown  heath,  and  black  charred  spaces  between  the 
white  sand  hills.  The  women  carried  hymn-books,  and 
walked  into  the  church.  Oh,  pray,  pray  for  those  who  are 
wandering  to  find  graves  beyond  the  foaming  billows." 


FIFTEENTH  EVENING. 

"I  know  a  Pulcinella,"*  the  Moon  told  me.  "The  public 
applaud  vociferously  directly  they  see  him.  Everyone  of  his 
movements  is  comic,  and  is  sure  to  throw  the  house  into 
convulsions  of  laughter ;  and  yet  there  is  no  art  in  it  at  all — 
it  is  complete  nature.  When  he  was  yet  a  little  boy,  play- 
ing with  other  boys,  he  was  already  Punch.  Nature  had  in- 
tended him  for  it,  and  had  provided  him  with  a  hump  on  his 
back,  and  another  on  his  breast;  but  his  inward  man,  his 
mind,  on  the  contrary,  was  richly  furnished.  No  one  could 
surpass  him  in  depth  of  feeling  or  in  readiness  of  intellect. 
The  theater  was  his  ideal  world.  If  he  had  possessed  a  slen- 
der, well-shaped  figure,  he  might  have  been  the  first  trage- 
dian on  any  stage;  the  heroic,  the  great,  filled  his  soul;  and 
yet  he  had  become  a  Pulcinella.  His  very  sorrow  and 
melancholy  did  but  increase  the  comic  dryness  of  his  sharp- 
ly-cut features,  and  increased  the  laughter  of  the  audience, 
who  showered  plaudits  on  their  favorite.  The  lovely  Colum- 
bine was  indeed  kind  and  cordial  to  him;  but  she  preferred 
to  marry  the  Harlequin.  It  would  have  been  too  ridiculous 
if  beauty  and  ugliness  had  in  reality  paired  together. 

"When  Pulcinella  was  in  very  bad  spirits,  she  was  the 
only  one  who  could  force  a  hearty  burst  of  laughter,  or  even 
a  smile  from  him;  first  she  would  be  melancholy  with  him, 
then  quieter,  and  at  last  quite  cheerful  and  happy.  T  know 
very  well  what  is  the  matter  with  you,'  she  said;  'yes,  you're 
in  love!'  And  he  could  not  help  laughing,  T  in  love!'  he 
cried,  'that  would  have  an  absurd  look.  How  the  public 
would  shout!'    'Certainly,  you  are  in  love,'  she  continued; 

*The  comic  or  grotesque  character  of  the  Italian  ballet,  from 
which  the  English  "Punch"  takes  its  origin. 


400  ANDERSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES. 

and  added  with  a  comic  pathos,  'and  I  am  the  person  you 
are  in  love  with.'  You  see,  such  a  thing  may  be  said  when 
it  is  quite  out  of  the  question — and,  indeed,  Pulcinella  burst 
out  laughing,  and  gave  a  leap  into  the  air,  and  his  melan- 
choly was  forgotten. 

"And  yet  she  had  only  spoken  the  truth.  He  did  love  her, 
love  her  adoringly,  as  he  loved  what  was  great  and  lofty  in 
art.  At  her  wedding  he  was  the  merriest  among  the  guests, 
but  in  the  stillness  of  night  he  wept;  if  the  public  had  seen 
the  distorted  face,  then,  they  would  have  applauded  raptur- 
ously. 

"And  a  few  days  ago  Columbine  died.  On  the  day  of  the 
funeral.  Harlequin  was  not  required  to  show  himself  on  the 
boards,  for  he  was  a  disconsolate  widower.  The  director 
had  to  give  a  very  merry  piece,  that  the  public  might  not  too 
painfully  miss  the  pretty  Columbine  and  the  agile  Harle- 
quin. Therefore  Pulcinella  had  to  be  more  boisterous  and 
extravagant  than  ever;  and  he  danced  and  capered,  with 
despair  in  his  heart;  and  the  audience  yelled,  and  shouted, 
'Bravo!  bravissimo!'  Pulcinella  was  actually  called  before 
the  curtain.    He  was  pronounced  inimitable. 

"But  last  night  the  hideous  little  fellow  went  out  of  the 
town,  quite  alone,  to  the  deserted  churchyard.  The  wreath 
of  flowers  on  Columbine's  grave  was  already  faded,  and  he 
sat  down  there.  It  was  a  study  for  a  painter.  As  he  sat 
with  his  chin  on  his  hands,  his  eyes  turned  up  toward  me, 
he  looked  like  a  grotesque  monument — a  Punch  on  a  grave 
— very  peculiar  and  whimsical.  If  the  people  could  have 
seen  their  favorite,  they  would  have  cried  as  usual,  'Bravo! 
Pulcinella!  bravo,  bravissimo!'" 


SIXTEENTH  EVENING. 

Hear  what  the  Moon  told  me:  "I  have  seen  the  cadet 
who  had  just  been  made  an  of^cer,  put  on  his  handsome 
uniform  for  the  first  time;  I  have  seen  the  young  bride  in 
her  wedding  dress,  and  the  Princess  girl-wife  happy  in  her 
gorgeous  robes;  but  never  have  I  seen  a  felicity  equal  to 
that  of  a  little  girl  of  four  years  old,  whom  I  \vatched  this 
evening.  She  had  received  a  new  blue  dress  and  a  new  pink 
hat;  the  splendid  attire  had  just  been  put  on,  and  all  were 


ANDERSEN'S  FAIRY  TALES.  401 

calling  for  a  candle,  for  my  rays,  shining  in  through  the 
windows  of  the  room,  were  not  bright  enough  for  the  occa- 
sion, and  further  illumination  was  required.  There  stood 
the  little  maid,  stiff  and  upright  as  a  doll,  her  arms  stretched 
painfully  straight  out  away  from  her  dress,  and  her  fingers 
apart;  and,  oh,  what  happiness  beamed  from  her  eyes  and 
from  her  whole  countenance!  'To-morrow  you  shall  go 
out  in  your  new  clothes,'  said  her  mother;  and  the  little  one 
looked  up  at  her  hat  and  down  at  her  frock,  and  smiled 
brightly.  'Mother,'  she  cried,  'what  will  the  little  dogs  think 
when  they  see  me  in  these  splendid  new  things?'  " 


SEVENTEENTH  EVENING. 

"I  have  spoken  to  you  of  Pompeii,"  said  the  Moon ;  "that 
corpse  of  a  city,  exposed  in  the  view  of  living  towns;  I 
know  another  sight  still  more  strange,  and  this  is  not  the 
corpse,  but  the  specter  of  a  city.  Whenever  the  jetty  foun- 
tains splash  into  the  marble  basins,  they  seem  to  me  to  be 
telling  the  story  of  the  floating  city.  Yes,  the  sprouting 
water  may  tell  of  her,  the  waves  of  the  sea  may  sing  of  her 
fame!  On  the  surface  of  the  ocean  a  mist  often  rests,  and 
this  is  her  widow's  veil.  TheBridegroom  of  the  Sea  is  dead, 
his  palace  and  his  city  are  his  mausoleum!  Dost  thou  know 
this  city?  She  has  never  heard  the  rolling  of  wheels  or  the 
hoof-tread  of  horses  in  her  streets,  through  which  the  fish 
swim,  while  the  black  gondola  glides  spectrally  over  the 
green  water.  I  will  show  you  the  place,"  continued  the 
Moon,  "the  largest  square  in  it,  and  you  will  fancy  yourself 
transported  into  the  city  of  a  fairy  tale.  The  grass  grows 
rank  among  the  broad  flagstones,  and  in  the  morning  twi- 
light thousands  of  tame  pigeons  flutter  around  the  solitary, 
lofty  tower.  On  three  sides  you  find  yourself  surrounded 
by  cloistered  walks.  In  these  the  silent  Turk  sits  smoking 
his  long  pipe;  the  handsome  Greek  leans  against  the  pillar, 
and  gazes  at  the  upraised  trophies  and  lofty  masts, 
memorials  of  power  that  is  gone.  The  flags  hang  down  like 
morning  scarves.  A  girl  rests  there;  she  has  put  down  her 
heavy  pails  filled  with  water,  the  yoke  with  which  she  has 
carried  them  rests  on  one  of  her  shoulders,  and  she  leans 
against  the  mast  of  victory.    This  is  not  a  fairy  palace  you 

26 


402  ANDERSEN'S  FAIRY  TALES. 

see  before  you  yonder,  but  a  church;  the  gilded  domes  and 
shining  orbs  flash  back  my  beams;  the  glorious  bronze 
horses  up  yonder  have  made  journeys,  like  the  bronze 
horses  in  the  fairy  tale;  they  have  come  hither,  and  gone 
hence,  and  have  returned  again.  Do  you  notice  the  varie- 
gated splendor  of  the  walls  and  windows?  It  looks  as  if 
Genius  had  followed  the  caprices  of  a  child,  in  the  adorn- 
ment of  these  singular  temples.  Do  you  see  the  winged  lion 
on  the  pillar?  The  gold  glitters  still,  but  his  wings  are  tied 
— the  lion  is  dead,  for  the  King  of  the  Sea  is  dead;  the  great 
halls  stand  desolate,  and  where  gorgeous  painting  hung  of 
yore,  the  naked  wall  now  peers  through.  The  lazzaroni 
sleep  under  the  arcade,  whose  pavement  in  old  times  was  to 
be  trodden  only  by  the  feet  of  the  high  nobility.  From  the 
deep  wells,  and  perhaps  from  the  prisons  by  the  Bridge  of 
Sighs,  rise  the  accents  of  woe,  as  at  the  time  when  the  tam- 
bourine was  heard  in  the  gay  gondolas,  and  the  golden  ring 
was  cast  from  Bucentaur  to  Adria,  the  Queen  of  the  Seas. 
Adria!  shroud  thyself  in  mists;  let  the  veil  of  thy  widow- 
hood shroud  thy  form,  and  clothe  in  the  weeds  of  woe  the 
mausoleum  of  thy  bridegroom — the  marble,  spectral 
Venice!" 

EIGHTEENTH   EVENING. 

"I  looked  down  upon  a  great  theater,"  said  the  Moon. 
"The  house  was  crowded,  for  a  new  actor  was  to  make  his 
first  appearance  that  night.  My  rays  glided  over  a  little  win- 
dow in  the  wall,  and  I  saw  a  painted  face  with  the  forehead 
pressed  against  the  panes.  It  was  the  hero  of  the  evening. 
The  knightly  beard  curled  crisply  about  the  chin ;  but  there 
were  tears  in  the  man's  eyes,  for  he  had  been  hissed  off,  and 
indeed  with  reason.  The  poor  Incapable!  But  Incapables 
cannot  be  admitted  into  the  empire  of  Art.  He  had  deep 
feelings,  and  loved  his  art  enthusiastically,  but  the  art  loved 
not  him.  The  prompter's  bell  sounded;  'the  hero  enters 
with  a  determined  air,'  so  ran  the  stage  direction  in  his  part, 
and  he  had  to  appear  before  an  audience  who  turned  him 
into  ridicule.  When  the  piece  was  over,  I  saw  a  form 
wrapped  in  a  mantle  creeping  down  the  steps;  it  was  the 
vanquished  knight  of  the  evening.  The  scene  shifters 
whispered  to  one  another,  and  I  followed  the  poor  fellow 


ANDERSEN'S  FAIRY  TALES.  403 

home  to  his  room.  To  hang  one's  self  is  to  die  a  mean 
death,  and  poison  is  not  always  at  hand,  I  know;  but  he 
thought  of  both.  I  saw  how  he  looked  at  his  pale  face  in 
the  glass,  with  eyes  half  closed,  to  see  if  he  should  look  well 
as  a  corpse.  A  man  may  be  very  unhappy,  and  yet  exceed- 
ingly affected.  He  thought  of  death,  of  suicide;  I  believe  he 
pitied  himself,  for  he  wept  bitterly;  and  when  a  man  has  had 
his  cry  out  he  doesn't  kill  himself. 

"Since  that  time  a  year  had  rolled  by.  Again  a  play  was 
to  be  acted,  but  in  a  little  theater,  and  by  a  poor  strolling 
company.  Again  I  saw  the  well  remembered  face,  with  the 
painted  cheeks  and  the  crisp  beard.  He  looked  up  at  me 
and  smiled;  and  yet  he  had  been  hissed  ofif  only  a  minute 
before — hissed  off  from  a  wretched  theater  by  a  miserable 
audience.  And  to-night  a  shabby  hearse  rolled  out  of  the 
town  gate.  It  was  a  suicide — our  painted,  despised  hero. 
The  driver  of  the  hearse  was  the  only  person  present,  for 
no  one  followed  except  my  beams.  In  a  corner  of  the 
churchyard  the  corpse  of  the  suicide  was  shoveled  into  the 
earth,  and  nettles  will  soon  be  rankly  growing  over  his 
grave,  and  the  sexton  will  throw  thorns  and  weeds  from  the 
other  graves  upon  it." 

NINETEENTH  EVENING. 

"I  come  from  Rome,"  said  the  Moon.  "In  the  midst  of 
the  city,  upon  one  of  the  seven  hills,  lie  the  ruins  of  the  im- 
perial palace.  The  wild  fig  tree  grows  in  the  clefts  of  the 
wall,  and  covers  the  nakedness  thereof  with  its  broad,  gray- 
green  leaves;  trampling  among  heaps  of  rubbish,  the  ass 
treads  upon  green  laurels,  and  rejoices  over  the  rank  this- 
tles. From  this  spot,  whence  the  eagles  of  Rome  once  flew 
abroad,  whence  they  'came,  saw  and  conquered,'  one  door 
leads  into  a  little,  mean  house,  built  of  clay  between  two 
pillars;  the  wild  vine  hangs  like  a  mourning  garland  over 
the  crooked  window.  An  old  woman  and  her  little  grand- 
daughter live  there;  they  rule  now  in  the  palace  of  the 
Caesars,  and  show  to  strangers  the  remains  of  its  past 
glories.  Of  the  splendid  throne-hall  only  a  naked  wall 
yet  stands,  and  a  black  cypress  throws  it  dark  shadow  on 
the  spot  where  the  throne  once  stood.  The  dust  lies  several 
feet  deep  on  the  broken  pavement;  and  the  little  maiden, 


4^  ANDERSEN'S  FAIRY  TALES. 

now  the  daughter  of  the  imperial  palace,  often  sits  there  on 
her  stool  when  the  evening  bells  ring.  The  keyhole  of  the 
door  close  by  she  calls  her  turret-window;  through  this 
she  can  see  half  Rome,  as  far  as  the  mighty  cupola  of  St. 
Peter's. 

"On  this  evening,  as  usual,  stillness  reigned  around;  and 
in  the  full  beam  of  my  light  came  the  little  granddaughter. 
On  her  head  she  carried  an  earthen  pitcher  of  antique  shape 
filled  with  watef.  Her  feet  v/ere  bare,  her  short  frock  and 
her  white  sleeves  were  torn.  I  kissed  her  pretty,  round 
shoulders,  her  dark  eyes,  and  black,  shining  hair.  She 
mounted  the  stairs;  they  were  steep,  having  been  made 
up  of  rough  blocks  of  broken  marble  and  the  capital  of  a 
fallen  pillar.  The  colored  lizards  slipped  away,  startled, 
from  before  her  feet,  but  she  was  not  frightened  at  them. 
Already  she  lifted  her  hand  to  pull  the  doorbell — a  hare's 
foot  fastened  to  a  string  formed  the  bellhandle  of  the  im^- 
periai  palace.  She  paused  for  a  moment — of  what  might 
she  be  thinking?  Perhaps  of  the  beautiful  Christ-child, 
dressed  in  gold  and  silver,  which  was  down  below  in  the 
chapel,  where  the  silver  candlesticks  gleamed  so  bright, 
and  where  her  little  friends  sang  the  hymns  in  which  she 
also  could  join.  I  know  not.  Presently  she  moved  again — 
she  stuinbled;  the  earthen  vessel  fell  from  her  head,  and 
broke  on  the  marble  steps.  She  burst  into  tears.  The 
beautiful  daughter  of  the  imperial  palace  wept  over  the 
worthless,  broken  pitcher;  with  her  bare  feet  she  stood 
there  weeping,  and  dared  not  pull  the  string,  the  belkrope 
of  the  imperial  palace." 


TWENTIETH  EVENING. 

It  was  more  than  a  fortnight  since  the  Moon  had  shone. 
Now  he  stood  once  more,  round  and  bright,  above  the 
clouds,  moving  slowly  onward.  Hear  what  the  Moon  told 
me. 

"From  a  town  in  Fezzan  I  followed  a  caravan.  On  the 
margin  of  the  sandy  desert,  in  a  salt  plain,  that  shone  like  a 
frozen  lake,  and  was  only  covered  in  spots  with  light  drift- 
ing sand,  a  halt  was  made.  The  eldest  of  the  company — the 
water-gourd  hung  at  his  girdle,  and  on  his  head  was  a  little 


ANDERSEN'S  FAIRY  TALES.  405 

bag  of  unleavened  bread— drew  a  square  in  the  sand  with 
his  staff,  and  wrote  in  it  a  few  words  out  of  the  Koran,  and 
then  the  whole  caravan  passed  over  the  consecrated  spot.  A 
young  merchant,  a  child  of  the  East,  as  I  could  tell  by  his 
eye  and  his  figure,  rode  pensively  forward  on  his  white, 
snorting  steed.  Was  he  thinking,  perchance,  of  his  fair 
young  wife?  It  was  only  two  days  ago  that  the  camel, 
adorned  with  furs  and  with  costly  shawls,  had  carried  her, 
the  beauteous  bride,  round  the  walls  of  the  city,  while  drums 
and  cymbals  had  sounded,  the  women  sang,  and  festive 
shots,  of  which  the  bridegroom  fired  the  greatest  number, 
resounded  round  the  camel;  and  now  he  was  journeying 
with  the  caravan  across  the  desert. 

"For  many  nights  I  followed  the  train.  I  saw  them  rest 
by  the  wellside  among  the  stunted  palms;  they  thrust  the 
knife  into  the  breast  of  the  camel  that  had  fallen,  and 
roasted  its  flesh  by  the  fire.  'My  beams  cooled  the  glowing 
sands,  and  showed  them  the  black  rocks,  dead  islands  in  the 
immense  ocean  of  sand.  No  hostile  tribes  met  them  in 
their  pathless  route,  no  storms  arose,  no  columns  of  sand 
whirled  destruction  over  the  journeying  caravan.  At  home 
the  beautiful  wife  prayed  for  her  husband  and  her  father. 
'Are  they  dead?'  she  asked  of  my  golden  crescent;  'Are 
they  dead?'  she  cried  to  ray  full  disk.  Now  the  desert  lies 
behind  them.  This  evening  they  sit  beneath  the  lofty  palm 
trees  where  the  crane  flutters  round  them  with  its  long- 
wings,  and  the  pelican  watches  them  from  the  branches  of 
the  mimosa.  The  luxuriant  herbage  is  trampled  down, 
crushed  by  the  feet  of  elephants.  A  troop  of  negroes  are  re- 
turning from  a  market  in  the  interior  of  the  land;  the 
women,  with  copper  buttons  in  their  black  train,  and 
decked  out  in  clothes  dyed  with  indigo,  drive  the  heavily- 
laden  oxen,  on  whose  backs  slumber  the  naked  black  chil- 
dren. A  negro  leads  a  young  lion,  which  he  has  bought, 
by  a  string.  They  approach  the  caravan;  the  young  mer- 
chant sits  pensive  and  motionless,  thinking  of  his  beauti- 
ful wife,  dreaming,  in  the  land  of  the  blacks,  of  his  white, 
fragrant  lily  beyond  the  desert.    He  raises  his  head,  and — " 

■But  at  this  moment  a  cloud  passed  before  the  Moon,  and 
then  another.  I  heard  nothing  more  from  him  this  even- 
ing. 


406  ANDERSEN'S  FAIRY  TALES. 


TWENTY-FIRST  EVENING. 


"I  looked  down  on  Tyrol,"  said  the  Moon,  "and  my  beams 
caused  the  dark  pines  to  throw  long  shadows  upon  the 
rocks.  I  looked  at  the  pictures  of  St.  Christopher  carrying 
the  Infant  Jesus  that  are  painted  there  upon  the  walls  of  the 
houses,  colossal  figures  reaching  from  the  ground  to  the 
roof.  St.  Florian  was  represented  pouring  water  on  the 
burning  house,  and  the  Lord  hung  bleeding  on  the  great 
cross  by  the  wayside.  To  the  present  generation  these  are 
old  pictures,  but  I  saw  when  they  were  put  up,  and  marked 
how  one  followed  the  other.  On  the  brow  of  the  mountain 
yonder  is  perched,  like  a  swallow's  nest,  a  lonely  convent  of 
nuns.  Two  of  the  sisters  stood  up  in  the  tower  tolling  the 
bell;  they  were  both  young,  and  therefore  their  glances 
flew  over  the  mountain  out  into  the  world.  A  traveling 
coach  passed  by  below,  the  postilion  wound  his  horn,  and 
the  poor  nuns  looked  after  the  carriage  for  a  moment  with  a 
mournful  glance,  and  a  tear  gleamed  in  the  eyes  of  the 
younger  one.  And  the  horn  sounded  faintly  and  more  faint, 
and  the  convent  bell  drowned  its  expiring  echoes." 


TWENTY-SECOND  EVENING. 

"I  saw  a  little  girl  weeping,"  said  the  Moon;  "she  was 
weeping  over  the  depravity  of  the  world.  She  had  received 
a  most  beautiful  doll  as  a  present.  Oh,  that  was  a  glorious 
doll,  so  fair  and  delicate!  She  did  not  seem  created  for  the 
sorrows  of  this  world.  But  the  brothers  of  the  little  girl, 
those  great,  naughty  boys,  had  set  the  doll  high  up  in  the 
branches  of  a  tree,  and  had  run  away. 

"The  little  girl  could  not  reach  up  to  the  doll,  and  could 
not  help  her  down,  and  that  is  why  she  was  crying.  The 
doll  must  certainly  have  been  crsdng,  too,  for  she  stretched 
out  her  arms  among  the  green  branches,  and  looked  quite 
mournful.  Yes,  these  are  the  troubles  of  life  of  which  the 
little  girl  had  often  heard  tell.  Alas,  poor  doll!  it  began  to 
grow  dark  already;  and  suppose  night  were  to  come  on 
completely!  Was  she  to  be  left  sitting  there  alone  on  the 
bough  all  night  long?    No,  the  little  maid  could  not  make 


iA.NDERSEN'S  FAIRY  TALES.  407 

Up  her  mind  to  that.  'I'll  stay  with  you,'  she  said,  although 
she  felt  anything  but  happy  in  her  mind.  She  could  almost 
fancy  she  distinctly  saw  little  gnomes,  with  their  high- 
crowned  hats,  sitting  in  the  bushes;  and  farther  back  in  the 
long  walk,  tall  specters  appeared  to  be  dancing.  They  came 
nearer  and  nearer,  and  stretched  out  their  hands  toward  the 
tree  on  which  the  doll  sat;  they  laughed  scornfully,  and 
pointed  at  her  with  their  fingers.  Oh,  how  frightened  the 
little  maid  was!  'But  if  one  has  not  done  anything  wrong,' 
she  thought,  'nothing  evil  can  harm  one.  I  wonder  if  I  have 
done  anything  wrong?'  And  she  considered.  'Oh,  yes!  I 
laughed  at  the  poor  duck  with  the  red  rag  on  her  leg;  she' 
limped  along  so  funnily,  I  could  not  help  laughing;  but  it's 
a  sin  to  laugh  at  animals.'  And  she  looked  up  at  the  doll. 
'Did  you  laugh  at  the  duck,  too?'  she  asked;  and  it  seemed 
as  if  the  doll  shook  her  head." 


TWENTY-THIRD  EVENING. 

Hear  what  the  Moon  told  me:  "Some  years  ago,  here  in 
Copenhagen,  I  looked  through  the  window  of  a  mean  little 
room.  The  father  and  mother  slept,  but  the  little  son  was 
not  asleep.  I  saw  the  flowered  cotton  curtains  of  the  bed 
move,  and  the  child  peep  forth.  At  first  I  thought  he  was 
looking  at  the  great  clock,  which  was  gayly  painted  in  red 
and  green.  At  the  top  sat  a  cuckoo,  below  hung  the  heavy 
leaden  weights,  and  the  pendulum  with  the  polished  disk 
of  metal  went  to  and  fro,  and  said  'tick,  tick.'  But  no,  he 
was  not  looking  at  the  clock,  but  at  his  mother's  spinning 
wheel,  that  stood  just  underneath  it.  That  was  the  boy's 
favorite  piece  of  furniture,  but  he  dared  not  touch  it,  for  if 
he  meddled  with  it  he  got  a  rap  on  the  knuckles.  For  hours 
together,  when  his  mother  was  spinning,  he  would  sit  quietly 
by  her  side,  watching  the  murmuring  spindle  and  the  re- 
volving wheel,  and  as  he  sat  he  thought  of  many  things. 
Oh,  if  he  might  only  turn  the  wheel  himself.  Father  and 
mother  were  asleep;  he  looked  at  them,  and  looked  at  the 
spinning  wheel,  and  presently  a  little  naked  foot  peered  out 
of  the  bed,  and  then  a  second  foot,  and  then  two  little 
white  legs.  ITiere  he  stood.  He  looked  round  once  more, 
to  see  if  father  and  mother  were  still  asleep — yes,  they  slept; 


408  ANDERSEN'S  FAIRY  TALES. 

and  now  he  crept  softly,  softly,  in  his  short  little  nightgown, 
to  the  spinning  wheel,  and  began  to  spin.  The  thread  flew 
from  the  wheel,  and  the  wheel  whirled  faster  and  faster.  I 
kissed  his  fair  hair  and  his  blue  eyes.  It  was  such  a  pretty 
picture. 

"At  that  moment  the  mother  awoke.  The  curtain  shook; 
she  looked  forth,  and  fancied  she  saw  a  gnome  or  some 
other  kind  of  little  specter.  Tn  Heaven's  name!'  she  cried, 
and  aroused  her  husband  in  a  frightened  way.  He  opened 
his  eyes,  rubbed  them  with  his  hands,  and  looked  at  the 
brisk  little  lad.  'Why,  that  is  Bertel,'  said  he.  And  my  eyes 
quitted  the  poor  room,  for  I  have  so  much  to  see.  At  the 
same  moment  I  looked  at  the  halls  of  the  Vatican,  where 
the  marble  gods  are  enthroned.  I  shone  upon  the  group  of 
the  Lacoon;  the  stone  seemed  to  sigh.  I  pressed  a  silent 
kiss  on  the  lips  of  the  Muses,  and  they  seemed  to  stir  and 
move.  But  my  rays  lingered  longest  about  the  Nile  group, 
with  the  colossal  god.  Leaning  against  the  Sphinx,  he  lies 
there  thoughtful  and  meditative,  as  if  he  were  thinking  on 
the  rolling  centuries;  and  little  love-gods  sport  with  him 
and  with  the  crocodiles.  In  the  horn  of  plenty  sits  with 
folded  arms  a  little,  tiny  love-god  contemplating  the  great 
solemn  river-god,  a  true  picture  of  the  boy  at  the  spinning 
wheel — the  features  were  exactly  the  same.  Charming  and 
lifelike  stood  the  little  marble  form,  and  yet  the  wheel  of 
the  years  had  turned  more  than  a  thousand  times  since  the 
time  when  it  sprang  from  the  stone.  Just  as  often  as  the  boy 
in  the  little  room  turned  the  spinning  wheel  had  the  great 
wheel  murmured,  before  the  age  could  again  call  forth 
marble  gods  equal  to  those  he  afterward  formed. 

"Years  have  passed  since  all  this  happened,"  the  Moon 
went  on  to  say.  "Yesterday  I  looked  upon  a  bay  on  the 
eastern  coast  of  Denmark.  Glorious  woods  are  there,  and 
high  trees,  an  old  knightly  castle  with  red  walls,  swans 
floating  in  the  ponds,  and  in  the  background  appears, 
among  orchards,  a  little  town  with  a  church.  Many  boats, 
the  crews  all  furnished  with  torches,  glided  over  the  silent 
expanse — but  these  fires  had  not  been  kindled  for  catching 
fish,  for  everything  had  a  festive  look.  Music  sounded,  a 
song  was  sung,  and  in  one  of  the  boats  a  man  stood  erect,  to 
whom  homage  was  paid  by  the  rest,  a  tall,  sturdy  man, 
wrapped  in  a  cloak.    He  had  blue  eyes  and  long  white  hair. 


ANDERSEN'S  FAIRY  TALES.  409 

I  knew  him,  and  thought  of  the  Vatican,  and  of  the  group 
of  the  Nile,  and  the  old  marble  gods.  I  thought  of  the  sim- 
ple little  room  where  little  Bertel  sat  in  his  nightshirt  by  the 
spinning  wheel.  The  wheel  of  time  has  turned,  and  new 
gods  have  come  forth  from  the  stone.  From  the  boats  there 
arose  a  shout:    'Hurrah!    hurrah  for  Bertel  Thorwaldsen!'" 


TWENTY-FOURTH  EVENING. 

"I  will  now  give  you  a  picture  from  Frankfort,"  said  the 
Moon.  "I  especially  noticed  one  building  there.  It  was  not 
the  house  in  which  Goethe  was  born,  nor  the  old  council 
house,  through  whose  grated  windows  peered  the  horns  of 
the  oxen  that  were  roasted  and  given  to  the  people  when  the 
Emperors  were  crowned.  No,  it  was  a  private  house,  plain 
in  appearance,  and  painted  green.  It  stood  near  the  old 
Jews'  Street.    It  was  Rothschild's  house. 

"I  looked  through  the  open  door.  The  staircase  was 
brilliantly  lighted;  servants  carrying  wax  candles  in  mas- 
sive silver  candlesticks  stood  there,  and  bowed  low  before 
an  aged  woman,  who  was  being  brought  downstairs  in  a 
litter.  The  proprietor  of  the  house  stood  bareheaded,  and 
respectfully  imprinted  a  kiss  on  the  hand  of  the  old  woman. 
She  was  his  mother.  She  nodded  in  a  friendly  manner  to 
him  and  to  the  servants,  and  they  carried  her  into  the  dark, 
narrow  street,  into  a  little  house,  that  was  her  dwelling. 
Here  her  children  had  been  born,  from  hence  the  fortune 
of  the  family  had  arisen.  If  she  deserted  the  despised  street 
and  the  little  house,  fortune  would  also  desert  her  children. 
That  was  her  firm  belief." 

The  Moon  told  me  no  more;  his  visit  this  evening  was 
far  too  short.  But  I  thought  of  the  old  woman  in  the  nar- 
row, despised  street.  It  would  have  cost  her  but  a  word, 
and  a  brilliant  house  would  have  arisen  for  her  on  the  banks 
of  the  Thames — a  word,  and  a  villa  would  have  been  pre- 
pared in  the  Bay  of  Naples. 

"If  I  deserted  the  lowly  house,  where  the  fortunes  of  my 
sons  first  began  to  bloom,  fortune  would  desert  them!"  It 
was  a  superstition,  but  a  superstition  of  such  a  class,  that  he 
who  knows  the  story  and  has  seen  this  picture,  need  have 


410  ANDERSEN'S  FAIRY  TALES. 

only  two  words  placed  under  the  picture  to  make  him  un- 
derstand it;  and  these  two  words  are:  "A  mother.'' 


TWENTY-FIFTH  EVENING. 

"It  was  yesterday,  in  the  morning  twilight" — these  are  the 
words  the  Moon  told  me — "in  the  great  city  no  chimney 
was  yet  smoking — and  it  was  just  at  the  chimneys  that  I  was 
looking.  Suddenly  a  little  head  emerged  from  one  of  them, 
and  then  half  a  body,  the  arms  resting  on  the  rim  of  the 
chimneypot.  'Ya-hip!'  cried  a  voice.  It  was  the  little 
chimney  sweeper,  who  had  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  crept 
through  a  chimney  and  stuck  out  his  head  at  the  top.  'Ya- 
hip!  ya-hip!'  Yes,  certainly  that  was  a  very  different  thing 
from  creeping  about  in  the  dark,  narrow  chimneys!  the  air 
blows  so  fresh,  and  he  could  look  over  the  whole  city  toward 
the  green  wood.  The  sun  was  just  rising.  It  shone  round 
and  great,  just  in  his  face,  that  beamed  with  triumph, 
though  it  was  very  prettily  blacked  with  soot. 

"  'The  whole  town  can  see  me  now,'  he  exclaimed,  'and 
the  moon  can  see  me  now,  and  the  sun,  too.  Ya-hip! 
ya-hip!'    And  he  flourished  his  broom  in  triumph." 


TWENTY-SIXTH  EVENING. 

"Last  night  I  looked  down  upon  a  town  in  China,"  said 
the  Moon.  "My  beams  irradiated  the  naked  walls  that  form 
the  streets  there.  Now  and  then,  certainly,  a  door  is  seen, 
but  it  is  locked,  for  what  does  the  Chinaman  care  about  the 
outer  world?  Close  wooden  shutters  covered  the  windows 
behind  the  walls  of  the  houses;  but  through  the  windows 
of  the  temple  a  faint  light  glimmered.  I  looked  in,  and  saw 
the  quaint  decorations  within.  From  the  floor  to  the  ceiling 
pictures  are  painted  in  the  most  glaring  colors  and  richly 
gilt — pictures  representing  the  deeds  of  the  gods  here  on 
earth.  In  each  nine  statues  are  placed,  but  they  are  almost 
entirely  hidden  by  the  colored  drapery  and  the  banners 
that  hang  down.  Before  each  idol  (and  they  are  all  made  of 
tin)  stood  a  little  altar  of  holy  water,  with  flowers  and  burn- 
ing wax  lights  on  it.    Above  all  the  rest  stood  Fo,  the  chief 


ANDERSEN'S  FAIRY  TALES.  411 

deity,  clad  in  a  garment  of  yellow  silk,  for  yellow  is  here  the 
sacred  color.  At  the  foot  of  the  altar  sat  a  living  being,  a 
young  priest.  He  appeared  to  be  praying,  but  in  the  midst 
of  his  prayer  he  seemed  to  fall  into  deep  thought,  and  this 
must  have  been  wrong,  for  his  cheeks  glowed  and  he  held 
down  his  head.  Poor  Soui-hong !  Was  he,  perhaps,  dream- 
ing of  working  in  the  little  flower  garden  behind  the  high 
street  wall?  And  did  that  occupation  seem  more  agreeable 
to  him  than  watching  the  wax  lights  in  the  temple?  Or  did 
he  wish  to  sit  at  the  rich  feast,  wiping  his  mouth  with  silver 
paper  between  each  course?  Or  was  his  sin  so  great  that, 
if  he  dared  to  utter  it,  the  Celestial  Empire  would  punish  it 
with  death?  Had  his  thoughts  ventured  to  fly  with  the  ships 
of  the  barbarians,  to  their  homes  in  far-distant  England? 
No,  his  thoughts  did  not  fly  so  far,  and  yet  they  were  sinful, 
sinful,  as  thoughts  born  of  young  hearts,  sinful  here  in  the 
temple,  in  the  presence  of  Fo  and  the  other  holy  gods. 

"I  know  whither  his  thoughts  had  strayed.  At  the  farther 
end  of  the  city,  on  the  flat  roof  paved  with  porcelain,  on 
which  stood  the  handsome  vases  covered  with  painted  flow- 
ers, sat  the  beauteous  Pu,  of  the  little  roguish  eyes,  of  the 
full  lips,  and  of  the  tiny  feet.  The  tight  shoe  pained  her,  but 
her  heart  pained  her  still  more.  She  lifted  her  graceful, 
round  arm,  and  her  satin  dress  rustled.  Before  her  stood 
a  glass  bowl  containing  four  goldfish.  She  stirred  the  bowl 
carefully  with  a  slender  lacquered  stick,  very  slowly,  for  she, 
too,  was  lost  in  thought.  Was  she  thinking,  perchance,  how 
the  fishes  were  richly  clothed  in  gold,  how  they  lived  calmly 
and  peacefully  in  their  crystal  world,  how  they  were  regu- 
larly fed,  and  yet  how  much  happier  they  might  be  if  they 
were  free?  Yes,  that  she  could  well  understand,  the  beauti- 
ful Pu.  Her  thoughts  wandered  away  from  her  home,  wan- 
dered to  the  temple,  but  not  for  the  sake  of  holy  things. 
Poor  Pu!    Poor  Soui-hong! 

"Their  earthly  thoughts  met,  but  my  cold  beam  lay  be- 
tween the  two  like  the  sword  of  the  cherub." 


TWENTY-SEVENTH  EVENING. 

"The  air  was  calm,"  said  the  Moon;   "the  water  was  as 
transparent  as  the  pure  ether  through  which  I  was  gHding, 


412  ANDERSEN'S  FAIRY  TALES. 

and  deep  below  the  surface  I  could  see  the  strange  plants 
that  stretched  up  their  long  arms  toward  me  like  the  gigan- 
tic trees  of  the  forests.  The  fishes  swam  to  and  fro  above 
their  tops.  High  in  the  air  a  flight  of  wild  swans  were  wing- 
ing their  way,  one  of  which  sank  lower  and  lower,  with 
wearied  pinions,  his  eyes  following  the  airy  caravan,  that 
mdted  farther  and  farther  into  the  distance.  With  outspread 
wings  he  sank  slowly  as  a  soap  bubble  sinks  in  the  still  air, 
till  he  touched  the  water.  At  length  his  head  lay  back  be- 
tween his  wings,  and  silently  he  lay  there,  like  a  white  lotus 
flower  upon  the  quiet  lake.  And  a  gentle  wind  arose,  and 
crisped  the  quiet  surface  which  gleamed  like  the  clouds  that 
poured  along  in  great,  broad  waves;  and  the  swan  raised 
his  head,  and  the  glowing  water  splashed  like  blue  fire  over 
his  breast  and  back.  The  morning  dawn  illuminated  the 
red  clouds,  the  swan  rose  strengthened,  and  flew  toward  the 
rising  sun,  toward  the  bluish  coast  whither  the  caravan  had 
gone;  but  he  flew  all  alone,  with  a  longing  in  his  breast. 
Lonely  he  flew  over  the  blue,  swelling  billows.'' 


TWENTY-EIGHTH  EVENING. 

"I  will  give  you  another  picture  of  Sweden,"  said  the 
Moon.  "Among  dark  pine  woods,  near  the  melancholy 
banks  of  the  Stoxen,  lies  the  old  convent  church  of  Wreta. 
My  rays  glided  through  the  grating  into  the  roomy  vaults, 
where  Kings  sleep  tranquilly  in  great  stone  coffins.  On  the 
wall,  above  the  grave  of  each,  is  placed  the  emblem  of  earth- 
ly grandeur,  a  kingly  crown ;  but  it  is  made  only  of  wood, 
painted  and  gilt,  and  is  hung  on  a  wooden  peg  driven  into 
the  wall.  The  worms  have  gnawn  the  gilded  wood,  the 
spider  has  spun  her  web  from  the  crown  down  to  the  sand, 
like  a  mourning  banner,  frail  and  transient  as  the  grief  of 
mortals.  ^  How  quietly  they  sleep!  I  can  remember  them 
quite  plainly.  I  still  see  the  bold  smile  on  their  lips,  that  so 
strongly  and  plainly  expressed  joy  or  grief.  When  the 
steamboat  winds  along  like  a  magic  snail^over  the  lakes,  a 
stranger  often  comes  to  the  church,  and  visits  the  burial 
vault;  he  asks  the  names  of  the  Kings,  and  they  have  a 
dead  and  forgotten  sound.  He  glances  with  a  smile  at  the 
worm-eaten    crowns,    and    if    he  happens  to  be  a  pious, 


ANDERSEN'S  FAIRY  TALES.  413 

thoughtful  man,  something  of  melancholy  mingles  with  the 
smile.  Slumber  on,  ye  dead  ones!  The  Moon  thinks  of 
you,  the  Moon  at  night  sends  down  her  rays  into  your  silent 
kingdom,  over  which  hangs  the  crown  of  pine  wood." 


TWENTY-NINTH  EVENING. 

"Close  by  the  high  road,"  said  the  Moon,  "is  an  inn,  and 
opposite  to  it  is  a  great  wagon  shed,  whose  straw  roof  was 
just  being  re-thatched.  I  looked  down  between  the  bare 
rafters  and  through  the  open  loft  into  the  comfortless  space 
below.  The  turkey-cock  slept  on  the  beam,  and  the  saddle 
rested  in  the  empty  crib.  In  the  middle  of  the  shed  stood 
a  traveling  carriage;  the  proprietor  was  inside,  fast  asleep, 
while  the  horses  were  being  watered.  The  coachman 
stretched  himself,  though  I  am  very  sure  that  he  had  been 
most  comfortably  asleep  half  the  last  stage.  The  door  of  the 
servants'  room  stood  open,  and  the  bed  looked  as  if  it  had 
been  turned  over  and  over;  the  candle  stood  on  the  floor, 
and  had  been  burned  deep  dov/n  into  the  socket.  The  wind 
blew  cold  through  the  shed ;  it  was  nearer  to  the  dawn  than 
to  midnight.  In  the  wooden  frame  on  the  ground  slept  a 
wonderful  family  of  musicians.  The  father  and  mother 
seemed  to  be  dreaming  of  the  burning  liquor  that  remained 
in  the  bottle.  The  little  pale  daughter  was  dreaming,  too, 
for  her  eyes  were  wet  with  tears.  The  harp  stood  at  their 
heads,  and  the  dog  lay  stretched  at  their  feet," 


THIRTIETH  EVENING. 

"It  was  in  a  little  provincial  town,"  the  Moon  said;  "it 
certainly  happened  last  year,  but  that  has  nothing  to  do  with 
the  matter.  I  saw  it  quite  plainly.  To-day  I  read  about  it 
in  the  papers,  but  there  it  is  not  half  so  clearly  expressed. 
In  the  tap-room  of  the  little  inn  sat  the  bear  leader,  eating 
his  supper;  the  bear  was  tied  up  outside,  behind  the  wood 
pile — poor  Bruin,  who  did  nobody  any  harm,  though  he 
looked  grim  enough.  Up  in  the  garret  three  little  children 
were  playing  by  the  light  of  my  beams;  the  eldest  was  per- 
haps six  years  old,  the  youngest  certainly  not  more  than 


414  ANDERSEN'S  FAIRY  TALES. 

two.  Tramp !  tramp ! — somebody  was  coming  upstairs ;  who 
might  it  be?  The  door  was  thrust  open — it  was  Bruin,  the 
great,  shaggy  Bruin!  He  had  got  tired  of  waiting  down  in 
the  courtyard,  and  had  found  his  way  to  the  stairs.  I  saw 
it  all,"  said  the  Moon.  "The  children  were  very  much 
frightened  at  first  at  the  great,  shaggy  animal;  each  of 
them  crept  into  a  corner,  and  he  found  them  all  out,  and 
smelt  at  them,  but  did  them  no  harm.  'This  must  be  a  great 
dog,'  they  said,  and  began  to  stroke  him.  He  lay  down 
upon  the  ground,  the  youngest  boy  clambered  on  his  back, 
and,  bending  down  a  little  head  of  golden  curls,  played  at 
hiding  in  the  beast's  shaggy  skin.  Presently  the  eldest  boy 
took  his  drum,  and  beat  it  till  it  rattled  again;  the  bear 
rose  up  on  its  hind  legs  and  began  to  dance.  It  was  a 
charming  sight  to  behold.  Each  boy  now  took  his  gun, 
and  the  bear  was  obliged  to  have  one,  too,  and  he  held  it  up 
quite  properly.  Here  was  a  capital  playmate  they  had 
found!    and  they  began  marching — one,  two;    one,  two. 

"Suddenly  someone  came  to  the  door,  which  opened, 
and  the  mother  of  the  children  appeared.  You  should  have 
seen  her  in  her  dumb  terror,  with  her  face  as  white  as  chalk, 
her  mouth  half  open,  and  her  eyes  fixed  in  a  horrified  stare. 
But  the  youngest  boy  nodded  to  her  in  great  glee,  and 
called  out  in  his  infantile  prattle,  'We're  playing  at  sol- 
diers.'   And  then  the  bear  leader  came  running  up." 


THIRTY-FIRST  EVENING. 

The  wind  blew  stormy  and  cold,  the  clouds  flew  hurriedly 
past;  only  for  a  moment  now  and  then  did  the  Moon  be- 
come visible.  He  said,  "I  looked  down  from  the  silent  sky 
upon  the  driving  clouds,  and  saw  the  great  shadows  chas- 
ing each  other  across  the  earth.  I  looked  upon  a  prison. 
A  closed  carriage  stood  before  it;  a  prisoner  was  to  be 
carried  away.  My  rays  pierced  through  the  grated  window 
toward  the  wall;  the  prisoner  was  scratching  a  few  lines 
upon  it,  as  a  parting  token ;  but  he  did  not  write  words,  but 
a  melody,  the  outpouring  of  his  heart.  The  door  was 
opened,  and  he  was  led  forth,  and  fixed  his  eyes  upon  my 
round  disk.  Clouds  passed  between  us,  as  if  he  were  not  to 
see  my  face,  nor  I  his.    He  stepped  into  the  carriage,  the 


ANDERSEN'S  FAIRY  TALES.  415 

door  was  closed,  the  whip  cracked,  and  the  horses  galloped 
off  into  the  thick  forest,  whither  my  rays  were  not  able  to 
follow  him;  but  as  I  glanced  through  the  grated  window, 
my  rays  glided  over  the  notes,  his  last  farewell  engraved  on 
the  prison  wall — where  words  fail,  sounds  can  often  speak. 
My  rays  could  only  light  up  isolated  notes,  so  the  greater 
part  of  what  was  written  there  will  ever  remain  dark  to  me. 
Was  it  the  death  hymn  he  wrote  there?  Were  these  the  glad 
notes  of  joy?  Did  he  drive  away  to  meet  his  death,  or 
hasten  to  the  embraces  of  his  beloved?  The  rays  of  the 
Moon  do  not  read  all  that  is  written  by  mortals." 


THIRTY-SECOND  EVENING. 

"1  love  the  children,"  said  the  Moon,  "especially  the  quite 
little  ones — they  are  so  droll.  Sometimes  I  peep  into  the 
room,  between  the  curtain  and  the  window  frame,  when 
they  are  not  thinking  of  me.  It  gives  me  pleasure  to  see 
them  dressing  and  undressing.  First,  the  little  round, 
naked  shoulder  comes  creeping  out  of  the  frock,  then  the 
arm;  or  I  see  how  the  stocking  is  drawn  off,  and  a  plump 
little  white  leg  makes  it  appearance,  and  a  little  white  foot 
that  is  fit  to  be  kissed,  and  I  kiss  it,  too. 

"But  about  what  I  was  going  to  tell  you.  This  evening 
I  looked  through  a  window,  before  which  no  curtain  was 
drawn,  for  nobody  lives  opposite.  I  saw  a  whole  troop  of 
little  ones,  all  of  one  family,  and  among  them  was  a  little 
sister.  She  is  only  four  years  old,  but  can  say  her  prayers 
as  well  as  any  of  the  rest.  The  mother  sits  by  her  bed  every 
evening,  and  hears  her  say  her  prayers;  and  then  she  has  a 
kiss,  and  the  mother  sits  by  the  bed  till  the  little  one  has 
gone  to  sleep,  which  generally  happens  as  soon  as  ever  she 
can  close  her  eyes. 

"This  evening  the  two  elder  children  v\^ere  a  little  boister- 
ous. One  of  them  hopped  about  on  one  leg  in  his  long 
night-gown,  and  the  other  stood  on  a  chair  surrounded  by 
the  clothes  of  all  the  children,  and  declared  he  was  acting 
Grecian  statues.  The  third  and  fourth  laid  the  clean  linen 
carefully  in  the  box,  for  that  is  a  thing  that  has  to  be  done; 
and  the  mother  sat  by  the  bed  of  the  youngest,  and  an- 


416  ANDERJSEN'S   FAIRY   TALES. 

nounced  to  all  the  rest  that  they  were  to  be  quiet,  for  little 
sister  was  going  to  say  her  prayers. 

"I  looked  in,  over  the  lamp,  into  the  little  maiden's  bed, 
where  she  lay  under  the  neat  white  coverlet,  her  hands 
folded  demurely  and  her  little  face  quite  grave  and  serious. 
She  was  praying  the  Lord's  Prayer  aloud.  But  her  mother 
interrupted  in  the  middle  of  her  prayer.  'How  is  it,'  she 
asked,  'that  when  you  have  prayed  for  daily  bread,  you  al- 
ways add  something  I  cannot  understand?  You  must  tell 
me  what  that  is.'  The  little  one  lay  silent,  and  looked  at  her 
mother  in  embarrassment.  'What  is  it  you  say  after  our 
daily  bread?'  'Dear  mother,  don't  be  angry;  I  only  said, 
and ;plenty  of  hutter  on  it.' " 


THE  END. 


taWfr^    ii 


Date  0ue 


1* 


"m  it 

-'^      *.:   .     .^ 

.     JUL 

-  IMS 

Library  Bureau  Cat  no.  1137 


tCANCEiED'' 

-f^roDerty  or 

ST.  LOUIS  scHnni  of  rmf  m^ 


